The New World
by Nicodemus V
Summary: In the South China Sea, the USS Enterprise and her strike group are running a freedom of navigation patrol. When rough seas and a storm interfere with their communications, they come across a city under siege. Just as the battle for Beacon reaches it's climax, new players are thrown into the mix. It's not just a new struggle, no. It's a New World.
1. Chapter 1

The New World Ch 1

Hey guys, NicodemusV here with another story! This chapter is typed on my phone so excuse any format issues.

You're all probably wondering where I've been or when the next chapter of The Age of Sail is. I've been around, now in my second year of high school so that ultimately means I'll be busier with school and chores and such.

That also means I've gotten better at writing too! Yay!

As for the status of The Age of Sail, I don't know. When I look back and read what I wrote, I cringe sometimes. I won't rewrite it, I won't abandon it, but expect chapters for all of my stories to increase in quality as time goes on. Also expect for time in between chapters to increase as well (though certainly not like this 3-4 month break I had!).

I'm still unsure on an update schedule, but I'll try to update within reasonable amounts of time.

Now, onto the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. It is owned by Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum respectively.

4 September 2016

International waters

South China Sea

Carrier Strike Group "Enterprise"

Time: 0000 (12:00 AM)

Admiral John H. Carter sighed, he and his carrier group were on yet another patrol along the South China Sea, ensuring freedom of navigation for all ships passing through the busy maritime lane.

Recently China had been stepping up their military and enforcing their claim on the area, which extends some 400 miles off their coast, well beyond the established 200 mile EEZ, or "exclusive economic zone".

To help with enforcing their claim, China started by piling up rocks and sand to build artificial islands and then placing military installations to help project power over the area.

This caught the eye of the surrounding nations such as Vietnam, the Philippines, Indonesia, Japan, Taiwan, and of course, the United States.

China's little sandbox endeavor softened its neighboring countries sand castles, which inadvertently had drawn the United States into it. In order to prevent China from gaining hegemony in East Asian area, the United States began conducting freedom of navigation patrols along "Chinese held territory", to help calm down neighboring countries and ease political tension.

Even still, China continued to work in its sandbox, eventually putting runways and defense capabilities on its islands.

Which led to the current situation.

John was currently sitting in his private quarters, reading reports on maintenance, ammunition, fleet readiness, and the like.

Not that he had to do most of that, but it beat sitting around looking at the sea all day.

His coffee swayed with the rock of the Enterprise, they were going through some rough seas, but from what he heard from the bridge, it would pass in a few hours. So to bide his time, he read reports from each ship and spoke with passing crewmen from inside his quarters.

Putting down the remaining papers, he downed the rest of his coffee and put it back on his desk with a thud, as he made his way out the door into the main corridor.

The Enterprise was one of the United States Navy's newest Gerald R. Ford class super carriers, designated CVN-80. She was the third ship in the class, alongside her sister ships Gerald R. Ford and John F. Kennedy. She wasn't the Navy's only new toy, no, there was also the Zumwalt class missile "destroyer".

The Zumwalt class was designated as DDG-1000 and is the first of three ships. Original plans were for 32 ships, but cost overruns had brought it down to 3, with 29 cancelled. The thing was larger than the average destroyer, cruiser size in fact, and it held enough energy to power rail guns on its fore gun mounts, as well as lasers.

The captain of the first Zumwalt is named James A. Kirk, reminiscent of the Star Trek Enterprise's own captain James T. Kirk.

As John made his way up to the bridge, he greeted passing crewmen, who made way for him and saluted as he passed by. Eventually making it to the entrance of the bridge, he took a deep breath and walked in.

Almost immediately the Warrant Officer yelled "Admiral On Deck!" and all activity on the bridge ceased. Bridge crew, officers, and staff all turned and faced him, ending in a salute.

"At ease, everyone". John dismissed them as he made his way to the Captain of the ship, Captain Henry Callaghan.

Henry had only been an Ensign when John was Captain, and John entered the Admiralty only 10 years ago. Henry is now 36, whereas John is turning 47 this December 21st. Both were fairly new in their respective areas, but also had some combat experience under their belts. When John was still a Captain, he used to work counter-piracy operations off Somalia onboard the USS Behrman and Henry used to serve as bridge crew aboard the USS Farragut, supporting rescue operations for American troops stuck in the Middle East. They both knew each other's backgrounds and respected one another, knowing where the line is and when to step off it.

"Captain," John greeted, "How do things seem to be going, skipper?"

Henry replied in earnest, "All operations aboard the ship are good, sir. The birds are stored below decks and ones we couldn't store are latched down and covered. Crew's ok, some of the greenhorns haven't exactly gotten their sea legs yet so I've made sure the lavatories are in working order. All seems to be good with the other ships too, from their reports".

The Enterprise could hold 80+ aircraft, approximately up to 90 combat aircraft, steam up to 30 knots in good conditions, and was very well protected. She had on her RIM-162 Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles (ESSM), RIM-116 RAM (Rolling Airframe Missile) and a CIWS (Close-In Weapons System). She also flew 2 squadrons of F-35Cs, 1 squadron of F/A-18 Super Hornets, 5 EA-18G Growlers, and 4 MH-60 Seahawks.

"I see," John replied, "Well then, I just want to know if any new orders have come from command or if this cyclone is going to clear up any time soon."

"No sir, there have been no new orders issued from command. It's actually getting a little hard to receive messages from Hawaii and even Yokosuka. I have the communications officers working on clearing it up though, so I'll keep tabs on it for you. And as for the cyclone, it seems like it's getting worse by the second, so we're watching the ships stability as we sail."

Taking in the information, John wiped his face with his left hand. Sighing, he started, "Well Cap'n I hope Mother Nature gets her rocker back in place soon, I don't know about you but I'm getting old enough that the sway of the ship ain't gonna cut it anymore." John groaned a little after finishing, stretching out his back.

"Agreed sir," Henry concurred, "I want to sleep as well but there's a window that needs looking out of, and I'm the one to do it as skipper."

The two men laughed at the joke and they both went to the front, looking out of the windshield of the Enterprise's bridge, scanning for anything of interest.

Not that they could see, since it was around 0045 (12:45 AM).

Kingdom of Vale

Beacon Academy

Courtyards

Time: 0100 (1:00 AM)

"Jaune? Jaune!" Weiss yelled into the Scroll, hoping to gain a response to further solidify Pyrrah's location. She was met with nothing except the sound of a Scroll clattering onto the pavement.

Putting the device away, she and Ruby looked up towards Beacon Tower. That is evidently where Pyrrah was going, for reasons unbeknownst to Weiss and Ruby.

There was also an S-Class Grimm clinging to the side of the tower, a large, adult Gryphon Grimm with white bony spikes running along its spine as well as an armored tail and face mask.

"I have a plan," Ruby announced, drawing Crescent Rose and shifting it into scythe form.

"You always do," Weiss sighed as she drew Myrtenaster and ran with Ruby towards the tower and certain doom.

Beacon Tower

Ozpin's Office

Time: 0106 (1:06 AM

Cinder Fall walked through the steam, results of her fire control, and into Ozpin's office, looking out the window. The Gryphon had climbed up and around the tower, it's right eye visible to her. Screeching, it looked Cinder in the eye, causing her to step back a bit and summon a flame in her right hand.

It was quickly extinguished.

Looking behind her, she dodged a golden-bronze spear thrown at her face after the elevator doors burst open. A bronze circular shield was thrown at her face quickly afterwards. She blocked it, even as Pyrrah Nikos had pushed on it with her legs.

Jumping back and retrieving her weapons, she reverted to a fighting stance as Cinder hovered in front of her.

Starting suddenly, Cinder's eyes glowed and she slashed at her with fire, following up by throwing a fireball. Pyrrah dodged and twisted around each. Dodging another fireball, Cinder launched a beam of fire at her, forcing Pyrrah to draw her shield and block it.

She pushed through the flames however, and kicked off the floor, swinging her spear at Cinder's neck while twisting past her shoulders.

She caught it, much to Pyrrah's shock.

Taking the spear and throwing it aside, she blasted Pyrrah back into the wall, making her lose her grip on the shield.

Taking the opportunity, Cinder launched forward at her, only for Pyrrah to jump and crouch against the wall, grabbing Cinder and slamming her to the floor.

She back flipped back into a standing position and stepped aside as Pyrrah lunged at her with her spear, recovering her shield as well. Going for a shield bash, Cinder stepped aside again and blocked her swing with her left hand, sparks flew as Pyrrah was pushed away.

Cinder had the hint of a smile while Pyrrah's eyes grew wary of the fight.

She threw her spear at her at Mach speeds, Cinder glancing it aside as she copied the move to the disc throw of the shield. Her smile was gone, however, as Pyrrah launched herself at her and twisted, sending them both to the ground.

Pyrrah had her spear against Cinder's neck, the two both struggling to get free and restrain. Standing up, Pyrrah brought her up with her, just as the Gryphon screeched and flew off. They were both still struggling until Cinder began melting Pyrrah's spear.

Pyrrah was pushed away and slammed into a wall just as the Gryphon came back, flying into the Tower and slicing the dome roof off it. In pain and unarmed, Pyrrah sat against a column, Cinder hovering in front of her.

Crawling to her shield, she took a quick look to her left and grabbed the shield, using Polarity to slam a clock gear into Cinder. Getting up, she dodged two fire balls and got pushed back by a third, spreading a wall of fire in between them.

Throwing her shield through the flames, Cinder glanced it aside just as she looked back and had her eyes widen in surprise.

Pyrrah levitated several clock gears of Ozpin size and launched them at her, knocking her sideways until hitting her to the ground. Using the remaining gears, she covered her with them.

Only to have them explode away, hitting Pyrrah and forcing her back into a wall.

Giving in to the fatigue, she closed her eyes and put her head down.

Beacon Academy

Courtyards

Time: 0115 (1:15 AM)

Ruby and Weiss were fighting vigorously, having just slashed away Ursi that had thrown themselves at the pair.

Ruby, no short of breath, yelled, "We gotta hurry!". Looking up the tower, Weiss cast multiple glyphs up the tower, giving Ruby a determined nod.

Taking that as the initiative, she enabled her Semblance and dashed up the Tower.

Remains of Ozpin's Office

Time: 0116 (1:16 AM)

Pyrrah had no time to rest however, as she got up and made a short dash forward, launching her shield at Cinder in a discus throw.

At the same time, she launched her arrow.

The two projectiles met and magic won over metal. The arrow deformed and reformed around the shield, and hit it's mark.

Pyrrah cried out in pain, however short it was, and fell to the floor.

Cinder walked around Pyrrah, beginning her small spiel.

"It's unfortunate that you were promised a power that was never truly yours."

Kneeling in front of her, she lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes.

"But take comfort in knowing that I will use it in ways you never could have imagined."

Taking one last jab at Cinder, Pyrrah did not retrieve her shield, or her spear. Instead, she imposed a question.

"Do you believe in destiny?"

Moving back a little in some disgust of the words, Cinder replied.

"Yes."

Summoning her bow, she notched an arrow, just as a red rose arrived.

And fired.

Ruby's eyes widened, the arrow pierced Pyrrah in her chest, the head glowing crimson with anger and deceit.

Pyrrah choked, struggling to breathe as Cinder walked into her, providing her reprieve of her pain.

Dissolving into dust, only her headdress remained.

Ruby screamed.

The sky was dark with sadness, and the clouds were the color of death.

A terrible storm was brewing.

*VWOOM CRACK*

Kingdom of Vale

3 miles off Valean Coast

Carrier Strike Group "Enterprise"

Time: 0119 (1:19 AM)

General quarters, general quarters, all hands to battle stations. Repeat, general quarters, general quarters, all hands to battle stations...

Klaxons blared as Navy men and women rushed to their proper workstations. The Enterprise was filled with the sound of boots thumping on the ground, various shouts and orders could be heard all throughout the ship.

The Admiral was already out the door and to the bridge. He had been filled in by a passing crewman made a beeline for the bridge as soon as he heard where they were.

Uncharted waters.

"Admiral on deck!" Emerging onto the bridge, he dismissed them all with a wave of his hand and made for Captain Henry. The two men met halfway, both of them having the same idea and same look on their faces.

"Captain."

"Admiral."

Before the admiral could start, Henry beat him to it. "The ship is still running good sir. The reactors are ok and all our birds are undamaged. There's excess water on the runway, so we have crews working to remove it. The rest of the carrier group is fine as well, however there men overboard from the USS Mustin, they have a Seahawk getting ready to do SAR, up in 10 mikes."

"Do we have a bead on our location? How about communications between ships? Any word from Yokosuka?"

A communications officer by the name of Steven Wittiker answered the Admiral, "No sir, we currently cannot get a bearing on where we are. Radar is showing a landmass in front of us about 6.2 kilometers away, we can't hail any ships other than our own, we've tried all frequencies but only static comes up. Ship to ship comms are ok, getting lots of reports and questions from the other ships in the group. As for word from Yokosuka..."

Wittiker paused, gathering some breath before declaring the fact that'd put everyone into general quarters.

"There's no word. Not even static. And from what radar is telling us, the island of Japan isn't even here. Nor is the Philippines, Taiwan, or even China's fake islands. Nothing."

Disbelief took over John. Nothing? No fake islands? Not even the other numerous islands in the Pacific?

No. That had to be wrong. There was a landmass right in front of them, that had to mean something.

Wittiker piped up again, this time more urgently. "Sirs! Reading 5 bogies on approach vector to our group, bearing 0 degrees! They look airborne and are not responding to hails on all frequencies. Visual contact is confirmed!"

Heading for the windshield, he gestured for a pair of binoculars. Putting them on his eyes, he looked up and around.

What he saw shocked him.

Five very large, jet black crows with red eyes and white face masks were approaching the group. One of them opened its beak and screeched.

The sound could be heard through the windowpanes, all throughout the ship people dropped what they were doing and covered their ears, trying to block out the offending devil noise.

John and everyone else on the bridge covered their ears, dropping his binocs in the process.

"What the fuck?!"

"Jesus Christ, my fucking ears!"

"The hell is that damned rat?!"

"Admiral! Please head with me down to the Command Information Center, we'll begin conducting operations there! Executive Officer!"

As Henry called for his XO, a woman by the name of Amanda Maricruz presented herself.

"XO! Handle the situation on the bridge here as I do in the CIC! Coordinate with the CO on mobilizing the complement for possible engagements!"

"Yes sir!"

John and Henry went out the door, moving back down to the CIC. Crew moved out of the way and saluted briskly, before moving back on course to their stations.

Entering the CIC, it was in full swing. Radar operators, communications operators, and air traffic controllers were speaking through their mics, putting out commands and managing ship affairs.

"Officers on deck!" the Warrant Officer shouted, and all stood to salute them. Dismissing them, Captain Henry made his way to the air traffic controller, Matthew Stills.

"Controller Stills! What the situation in the skies, any birds up?"

"Only the Mustin's Seahawk sir, and they're doing SAR. Our birds are still being elevated up to the runway, but our own Seahawks are already up, their crews are doing priority checks right now."

"Runway status? What about the bogies? How close are they and how long 'till we can launch some missiles or get some Hornets in the sky?"

"Runway is dry enough to start launching planes, sir. Our ESSMs, RAMs, and CIWS are operational and ready to fire. So are the other Burkes in our group, their missiles are primed and ready to fire. Have been ever since they saw what the bogies are, sir."

"Good. Have the Air Officer up in his perch get to launching birds and starting flight operations. Comms op!"

The comms officer in the CIC was 27 years old, a man by the name of Jared Steeles. He used to be the comms officer up in the bridge before being replaced by Wittiker and being sent to the CIC.

"Yes sir?!"

"Relay to the other ships that they are authorized to fire at will at the incoming bogies. Keep them at standoff range until we can get some Hornets up in the sky and Lightnings to scout that landmass in front of us."

"Yes sir, relaying to all Burkes in group."

This time, John spoke up to the operator. "Get me on the fleet wide channel, operator, I'm going to briefly address them of our situation and get us into a better fighting position."

Steeles smiled at the thought of fighting, it was a welcome change from the boring patrol earlier. "Patching you in now, sir. Go when ready."

Clearing his throat and making himself a bit more presentable, John began.

"All ships, this is your Admiral speaking."

All around the carrier group, his voice could be heard from the numerous PAs and all activity slowly ceased to listen to what the Admiral of the group had to say.

Continuing, John started again. "It has become evidently clear that we are in uncharted waters. It is evidently clear that we cannot contact anyone besides our own and that we are effectively cut off from Yokosuka, the Philippines, and Hawaii."

Murmurs of disbelief and shock could be heard from all ships crews, they could not possibly be in another world? It's just a trick pulled off by the Chinese or that the AEGIS radars really were trash, seeing how they performed in the Black Sea.

All doubt was cut off, however, when that insufferable screech came by earlier.

"I will make this brief. The United States Navy is under threat. Not by the Chinese, or the Russians, or whatever third world country exists in this god-forsaken place. No. We are under threat by ourselves. And to remedy this, we must act with caution and to keep our wits about us. Some of you are confused, I dare say that confusion in this situation will kill us."

Pausing for a moment, he closed his eyes briefly before beginning again, this time with conviction in eyes.

"We will continue to push onward and upward. Whatever may come our way in this new world may come. Do not let its illusions and facades adverse your thinking. We are the United States Navy for Christ's sakes! We!-"

Stopping and looking around the room as well as those on the screen in front of him, he started again.

"We, are the United States Navy. A global force for good!"

At this everyone in the CIC and carrier group cheered, their spirits raised and ignited by the speech. The dark clouds had become lighter, and the rain was long gone. However, the Admiral wasn't done yet.

"All ships are to run at Condition 1. Have all missiles primed and ready to fire at will to any bogies in the sky. I want Hornets up in the air to take out air targets and Lightnings to scout the landmass in front of us. All Seahawks must complete their current missions and start ferrying troops to the shores. All threats in this world are considered Class A. Show no restraint."

"Admiral," Henry tapped John on the shoulder urgently, clearly having a message. "The landmass in front of us appears to be populated. It also seems to be under attack. There's smoke and fire coming from one area and there's a massive fleet in the sky as well."

"A fleet? Of what variety, planes?"

"No, sir, looks like airships. And not the ones you see over the Daytona Speedway."

"By God... relay to all ships to stay in a stationary position and to prime AA defenses. If those are hostile, we may not live very long. Do we have pictures?"

"Yes, this photo was taken by a crewman who had seen the airship obscured by clouds. He took it on his smartphone and is being confined to quarters."

"Bring him to me, I will ask him the questions. And tell the ships that they are authorized to use deadly force against enemy air assets. Keep RoE in mind."

"Yes sir. Steeles!"

As the two men continued commanding from the CIC, multiple RIM-66M standard missiles fired from the Mk 41 VLS of the Arleigh-Burke class destroyers. Zoning in on the Nevermores at Mach 3.5, they impacted with their targets, too slow to evade and too big to dodge. Two were killed and two were incapacitated, falling to the dark ocean below. The remaining Nevermore was on fire, but still airborne.

Screeching in anger at the comets that set it's feathers ablaze, it reared up and beat its wings at the offending ships, launching razor sharp feathers towards them.

Six feathers were launched, two of them grazing the bow of one of the destroyers. Another two impaled themselves in the bow of another destroyer. The remaining two feathers sank to the ocean floor.

Another volley of missiles came from the destroyers, obliterating the overgrown flying rat and sending it whirling towards the sea below.

4 September 2016

Japan

Yokosuka Naval Base

Time: 0119 (1:19 AM)

"What?! What do you mean we just lost a carrier strike group? Where could it have gone?!"

"I-I don't know, sir. T-the ocean?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all, NicodemusV here with another chapter of** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **I now have a definite update schedule of one chapter every two weeks. It may seem like a long time, but this way I give myself an ample time frame to work on my stories and keep ahead on my classes.**

 **This chapter was typed on my laptop, so formatting should not be an issue. That also means I'll be able to do more with the chapters than before.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, it is owned by Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth.**

 _ **Now without further ado...**_

* * *

 _"The F/A-18 Super Hornet is the backbone of the United State's Navy's Naval Aviation Program. The evolutionary model of the McDonnell Douglass F/A-18 Hornet, it is equipped with an internal M61A2 Vulcan 412 round rotary cannon, air to air missiles, and air to surface missiles. Designed and produced initially by McDonnell Douglass, the Super Hornet's first flight was in 1995, with full rate production being reached in 1997. In 1999, the Super Hornet entered official service and has since then served the United State's Navy faithfully as a carrier based multi role fighter"_

* * *

 _4 September 2016_

 _Japan_

 _Yokosuka Naval Base_

 _Time: 0119 (1:19AM)_

"What?! What do you mean with just _lost_ a carrier strike group?! Where could it have gone?!"

"We lost contact with _Enterprise_ and her strike group at approximately 0100 hours. The last piece of communication we received from the entire strike group was at approximately 0103 hours. Their last known location was the South China Sea, conducting a scheduled FONOP."

Base Commander Vice Admiral Jameson Mathias Wilson sighed. The Chinese were already screwing around in the sand of the South China Sea, or as it was evidently becoming, the "South Chinese Lake". And to make matters an even worse logistical nightmare, a _Zumwalt_ class destroyer was being forwardly deployed to the base, acting as extra fire support for the U.S. Seventh Fleet.

Jameson was around the age of Admiral John H. Carter, clocking in at 47 years old. He was replaced as the Base Commander 3 years ago when the previous one had been discharged for poor leadership and neglecting relations with the local populace. His forehead had stress lines from his work, and all the mental labor he had done keeping the base in shape as well as maintaining good terms with the Japanese.

He was not the toughest looking Navy Vice Admiral around. At a height of 5"9, he kept his beard borderline regulation. Without it, he'd admittedly look like a newborn baby, less than a month old. Physical labor and hard work from his days as a sailor could be found on his body, but his age was beginning to show. He had grey hair streaks near his sideburns, his skin was becoming looser underneath his chin, and his eyes were beginning to sink. His eyes were his most prominent feature of displaying his seniority. No greenhorn sailor or commander could have his cold, hard, steel-green eyes. They looked worn out from reading base reports all the years, and if you peered into them, you could see old photos of battle stenciled onto his retinas.

The young man giving him such a damning report was named Luke Merschen. At age 31, he served as the chief communications officer of the base. Any reports finalized below him were given to him, to which he overlooked them all and prioritized them in ranks of importance. He stood at a height of 5"11, overshadowing the base commander by a sly two inches. Luke's height, however, did not make up for his lack of seniority against the Vice Admiral.

"Get me satellite imagery, drones, maps, Google Earth, whatever! I need a map of the area if we're going to get anything done about this. And get me a line to the Pentagon, I'll address them myself." Springing into action, Luke began walking fast to the main navigational room of the base, where all ships in active duty were kept tracked of. Jameson was right behind him, keeping pace as they power walked down corridors, various sailors and base personnel giving a brief, crisp salute. They were dismissed with a wave of the hand by the Vice Admiral, and the two continued on their way.

Finally reaching the main navigational room, Luke immediately turned to the man who had given him the report, a Zachary Meeres.

"Meeres, pull up all info regarding the last known location, communication, and route of the _Enterprise_ and her strike group. Put it up on the main screen." Turning to Luke's right hand woman, secretary Michelle Davis, he got her attention and she immediately walked towards him.

"Sir?"

"Michelle, I'm going to need a direct, secure line to the Pentagon's receptionist for the base commander. Priority one, he'll address the situation to the officials on the mainland."

Moving to an open computer, she had the Vice Admiral input his credentials, where she then set up a secure line to the Pentagon's receptionist. While Michelle opened up a secure line, Meeres had already put up the _Enterprise's_ last known location and was displaying it with the projector. With a nod from Luke, he began the outline of his report.

"Alright, on the first of September 2016, the _Enterprise_ and her strike group departed for a scheduled FONOP. Conditions were nominal until the fourth of September. At approximately 0045 hours, conditions rapidly changed to a storm. This is when communications became very hard to receive, and what was able to come through was broken up and garbled. Messages were unclear. From then on, she stored her birds and all ships in the group also battened down hatches. Broken messages came through until 0100 hours, where contact was immediately lost. Both radio and satellite." Once Meeres finished, everyone took a moment to process the information that had come through. They were at a loss for words.

There have been no recorded disappearances like this since the mystery disappearances within the Bermuda Triangle. Even then, the myth was busted and explained with methane gas fluctuating the density of water, causing most ships to sink and is probably the cause for disappearances of ships like the S.S. Cyclops. Navigational tools malfunctioned, but that was then. Today, hundreds of ships pass through the Bermuda with no problems whatsoever, the advent of satellite and GPS allowed for more precise route planning and tracking.

"Sir," Michelle broke the silence, "Pentagon is on the line." Jameson took the mic and stood in front of the camera, thinking of how he was going to present this to the brass.

"Redirect me to the Chief of Naval Operations."

"Yes, sir."

 _How am I going to present this? I can't exactly say that we just lost a carrier strike group. And it's a brand new stinking carrier, damn it! That's billions upon billions of dollars down the drain! And what's worse, this happened on **my**_ _watch. Under **my** authority. If the government is going to blame someone, it just might be me. Worst case scenario, I'll lose my job and I'll have to relocate my family back to the States. It's going to be such a-_

"Vice Admiral Jameson Mathias Wilson," the deep voice of the Chief of Naval Operations broke his inner thoughts. "What is the situation, my good sir?"

The Chief of Naval Operations, the advisor to the National Security Council, Homeland Security Council, Secretary of Defense, and the Commander In Chief himself; the President. He was approaching his mid 50s, being aged 54. Appointed by President Michael V. Ramos in 2014, he is not only the CNO, but also the Director for the Naval Nuclear Propulsion program. His face was neutral as he listened to Jameson explain the situation to him. In all his years of service in the Navy since 1962, he had never heard of a more damning story. While the expression on his visage didn't change, inside his mind was still trying to wrap around it.

"...And at approximately 0100 hours, contact with the _Enterprise_ was lost completely, both radio and satellite tracking."

The CNO closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, as if meditating around the information just given to him. After a few moments pause, he opened them again.

"Thank you, Vice Admiral Wilson. I will relay this to the Secretary of the Navy, who will relay it to the Secretary of Defense, and finally get the message to the Commander In Chief."

Jameson mentally sighed, relieved. He had believed his story and would send it up the chain of command to the lord of the White House. Hopefully the matter would be above him now and he could get back to preparing for the arrival of the _Zumwalt_ class destroyer.

Giving a sharp salute to the Chief of Naval Operations, he returned it before ending the video call.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _3 miles off Valean Coast_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Time: 0136 (1:36AM)_

 ** _"Queen Bee, Hive. Bee 1-5 has entered the radial pattern. Bee 2-5 has entered the radial pattern. All threats considered class A, you are weapons hot, free to engage."_**

 _ **"Rog, Hive. Flight 1, 2 doing 6000 of 25000, squad 197, beginning mission at 0136 hours."**_

 _ **"Rog, Bee. Good hunting."**_

Captain Hughes Bromden switched his comms from control to squad. Opening up the channel, he recapped the mission for his fellow fly boys and girls.

VFA-197 _Queen Bees_ were composed of 6 F/A-18E Super Hornets and 6 F-35C Lightning IIs. They were one of seven squadrons aboard the _Enterprise_ , and had been flying with her for most of the _Enterprise's_ operational life.

"Bees, Bee Leader. Mission objectives are as follows. Provide CAS for our guys on the ground, achieve air superiority, and map the area for logistics. That all clear?"

A chorus of "ayes" and "yeas" could be heard through squad comms. The mission was fairly straightforward, the Super Hornets were to eliminate all hostile air threats as well as devote a bit of time to any needed air support for the complement below. The Lightning IIs were to map the area and stream the data to troops on the ground as well as to all ships in _Enterprise's_ strike group. That way, all forces could navigate more efficiently and work towards getting home faster.

"Bee Leader, Bee 2-1. We're breaking off for mapping operations. Bee 2-4, 2-5, and 2-6 will stream data to the battle network. You should get needed information pretty soon."

"Rog, Bee 2-1. Also breaking off to eliminate bandits. All hostiles considered Class A."

"Rog, Bee Leader. Good hunting."

As the F-35Cs broke off from the formation, the leader of VFA-197 _Queen Bees_ , Captain Mark Dullahan, thought about the F-35s. They were eventually out of visual range, but his radar still noted them as present. Just that their icons were smaller and getting harder to track as they increased distance from each other.

The F-35 was a very controversial plane. While it's development was relatively smooth compared to, say, the F-16, it was blasted as a huge waste of money and a major gimmick for stealth. Many technologies were put into it's airframe, and the requirements of the Joint Strike Fighter program forced it to be carrier capable, STOVL capable, and to be able to work with U.S. legacy aircraft. All that caused the program to blow up in terms of funding, being nicknamed by the media as the "Trillion Dollar Fighter".

But as time went on, the F-35 began to show it's true colors. It suffered no losses performing a CAS role, compared to the A-10 and F-16 taking casualties, and with Link 16, the tech placed on the F-35 was able to transmit needed information to other, legacy, aircraft in the battlespace. It could serve as early airborne warning, electronic warfare, missile guide, and much more. The versatility of the F-35 because of it's technology made it one of the most capable multiroles in the United State's arsenal.

"Mark, reading 6 bandits coming up fast, bearing 180 degrees," Bee 1-2 spoke in a hurried voice. Behind the six Super Hornets were 6 jet black, sleek, red-eyed overgrown crows.

Giant Nevermores.

"All Bees, evasive maneuvers! Break, break!"

The Super Hornets all dispersed into different directions, just as dark, steel-like feathers pierced the very air they were cruising in.

"All Bees to 7000 of 13000, let's see what these flying rats can do!"

Pulling up on his stick, Mark's Super Hornet climbed rapidly, the nose of his aircraft breaching the dark clouds over Vale. Taking a quick look at his radar, he was happy to see the rest of his half of the squad pulling up with him.

The Giant Nevermores were also climbing, but as Bee squad reached 7000 feet, they began to level out, their wings struggling to continue the steep climb.

"Alright Bees, weapons are hot. All targets Class A, so let's make sure these rats go down and _stay_ down."

Breaking out of formation once again, the Super Hornets dived down to the Nevermores circling below them, the barrels of the M61A2 Vulcan cannons spinning a bit before unleashing a hailstorm of lead at the birds. AIM-9 _Sidewinders_ soared off to them, striking their hides at mach speeds. The sheer volume of firepower caused the wings of two Nevermores to be _lopped_ off and the head of another _decapitated_. The Super Hornets soared past them.

Class A.

The three remaining Nevermores screeched, their vicious cry piercing the cockpit glass of the Super Hornets, threatening to cause hairlines in the canopy.

"Fuck! That was damning!" Bee 1-3 yelled out over comms. While they were all wearing helmets that muffled out the sound of the fighter jet, the war cry of the Nevermores were able to get past the protective hearing gear and shake the pilot's very cores."

"Keep it in, Ryuuga, there's still three of the fucking rats left. Pick a fat turkey and shoot."

The rest of the Bees chucked at the reference to the Battle of the Philippine Sea, where the aerial battle that ensued between the Imperial Japanese Navy and United States Navy carrier forces was nicknamed the "Great Marianas Turkey Shoot" by American aviators due to the disproportionate loss ratio of Japanese aircraft done by American pilots and AA crews.

They didn't have time to appreciate the reference though, as a flurry of feathers were launched by the Nevermores, one of them clipping a piece off the right wing of Bee 1-2, destabilizing the Super Hornet and causing it to roll right. The rest of the Super Hornets rapidly broke off, the remainder of the wings impacting the ground below them.

"Shit, I'm losing control, that one took a piece off my wings!" Bee 1-2 struggled to get her craft back under control, trying to stop her rolling right and getting back into level flight.

"Stop that roll, Kayla, get it back under reigns! We'll keep them distracted. Make your way back to the carrier as fast as possible. Go!"

"Roger, Mark."

After a few more seconds of uncontrolled rolling, Kayla Martinez was able to level off and jet away from the fight back to the fleet, her afterburners glowing in the night as she pushed her jet to max speed. Fortunately for her, the feather did not strike the AIM-9 _Sidewinder_ nor the AGM-65 _Maverick_ air to surface missile, leaving her with just an open fuselage leaking fuel.

"Keep that afterburner, Kayla, you're leaking fuel."

"Roger"

The afterburner's of her jet faded away into darkness, the clouds eventually swallowing her away from Mark's view. Returning his attention to the task at hand, he ordered his fellow Bees to engage the final three Nevermores, which were beginning a steep dive towards the ground.

"Why are they diving? Have they grown bored with us?" Ryuuga questioned the birds actions. The Nevermores dived, curling their wings so that they formed a missile like shape, and dropped at an almost 90 degree angle. It reminded Mark of an eagle swooping down on it's prey.

A sonic boom was heard.

Bee squadron turned to the source of the boom. It was the three Nevermores. In their dive, they had gained so much airspeed that they had broken the sound barrier. Continuing to dive for a few seconds, it looked like they had given up on the fight and, for some reason, their lives. "What the hell?!"

Ryuuga's sudden outburst was not without reason. The Nevermores had leveled off at the very last second, the muscles of their wings straining under the g-forces they were experiencing. Going into a steep climb, they were rising with such speed that a second sonic boom was heard. Bee squadron watched as they rose high above them and into the clouds. Twisting their bodies, they arced right in front of the shattered moon.

"Bee squadron, munitions report! How much do we all have left?" Mark asked suddenly, fearing the worst would happen.

The Nevermores tipped their beaks downward, and zoomed down towards the Hornets at mach speeds. They gave a deafening war cry, the music of death angels. The eagles were swooping down onto it's prey.

"All Bees, evasive actions! Disperse, disperse!" All of Bee squadron, sans Bee 1-2, hit the afterburner and pulled off maneuvers they didn't think possible. Mark pitched down rapidly and banked right, popping flares to help disorient the bird. Ryuuga immediately banked right and away, diving downwards in a spiral loop. The g-forces felt in his maneuver would be fatal to the average pilot. He too popped flares. Bee 1-4, Raymond, popped flare and punched the throttle forwards, pitching upwards at runway launch velocity at a 90 degree angle. He would later be diagnosed with a fractured spine. Bee 1-5 and Bee 1-6, Catherianne and Roberts, punched aferburners and rolled opposite directions.

The jet black missiles missed them by no more than 6 feet, their formation so close that it created massive turbulence for the dispersing Hornets.

Mark opened comms again. "Fuck! We need to deal with these birds fast or we'll be flying home with our wings clipped! Munitions report!"

"I got 2 more _Sidewinders_ , full load of _Mavericks_ , and 342 rounds left for my cannon."

"Three Sidies, full Mav's, and done with my cannon."

Got 1 _Sidewinder_ , full _Mavericks_ , and half cannon."

"Completely out of everything except cannon"

"How did you lose your Mavericks?! We're fighting airborne here!"

"In the first joust, I fired all my Sidies. Then when I ran out, fired all my _Maverick_ s. Sorry Sir."

"Anyways... I got one _Sidewinder_ left, full Mav's, and about 3/4th cannon."

Their ammunition count wasn't low, but it wasn't good either. Looking back at the Nevermores, they had rapidly slowed down by unfurling their wings, and were making the slow climb back up to their altitude. The muscles of their flying apparatus were intensely strained from the dives they had made, and the abrupt slowdown stressed them even more.

"Finish off these birds and we'll return to the carrier for refuel and rearm. If you all haven't noticed yet, the Lightnings have begun streaming their info to us."

Watching the information come onto his HUD, he glanced back to the Nevermores, who cawed irritably. Annoyed by their failures to swat the human machines out of the sky, they flew upwards with desperate fever, wanting to at least take one down after letting the other get away.

It would be a brief dogfight.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Valean Airspace_

 _Bee Squadron Flight 2_

 _Time: 0138 (1:38AM)_

While the F/A-18s were off to achieve air superiority, the F-35 Lightning IIs flew away to scout the area and stream data to their boots on the ground as well as to the carrier group. They all knew their mission and so there was complete radio silence between Flight 2 of VFA-197 _Queen Bees_. Besides the occasional radio chatter from the other half of Bee squadron or from the ships, all was silent.

Complete stealth.

Moving at cruise speed, the pilots of Bee Flight 2 scanned the surrounding area, looking through the cockpit's razorback canopy and even through the aircraft itself, courtesy of the Distributed Aperture System. The Distributed Aperture System, or DAS for short, allowed the pilot to have complete awareness in the battlespace only limited by how far they could look left or right. This is allowed by the numerous cameras and sensors placed all around the airframe of the craft, permitting pilots to be able to simply look somewhere in their angle of attack and fire the gun.

However, there was a secondary objective given to Bee Flight 2.

The Captain of the _Enterprise_ met with the sailor who had taken the photo of an Atlesian airship and questioned him on what he saw, how many there were, and how high he thought they were up. Answers from the sailor were sub-optimal. With permission from the Admiral, the Captain went to the Commander, Air Group (CAG) and ordered him to order his Deputy Commander, Air Group (DCAG) to order the Operations Officer and Intelligence Officer to order VFA-197 to conduct aerial reconnaissance on the surrounding area _and_ on the Atlesian airships.

So while they were technically on recon operations, Bee Flight 2 was also actively searching for the Atlesian airhips.

Bee 2-4, 2-5, and 2-6 began streaming data to the battlenet, with Bee 2-1 and 2-3 keeping an eye out for bandits and the airships. Flying over a forest that appeared to be stuck in fall and then another that looked to be evergreen, Bee 2-1 ordered all Bees of Flight 2 to 15000 of 25000 feet. "Alright Bees, let's get a better view of the area, too much orange and green and not enough of other high value locations."

"Hey Armand, you think this place down below is in for it?"

"I wouldn't know Two-Two, but it reminds me of scorched earth warfare."

"Why's you say that? Right next to it is a forest that looked like God himself put it there and refused to let it Fall."

Bee Flight 2 cringed at the pun, while you couldn't see it through their visors they were trying not to yell at Derzki for his half-assed jokes.

"Alright, alright, can it Bee 2-2. Resume radio silence, we're climbing up above this cloud cover. Got a radar contact too, it might be the Hindenburg we've been looking for."

No more words came from Derzki nor from the rest of Flight 2. Pitching their noses up, the F-35Cs rose steadily, their canopys being hit by some light rain. As they were rising, there was a sudden pocket of turbulence as they unknowingly passed by the wind vortex of an adjacent Atlesian airship sailing at full steam. The airship was already a couple of kilometers away before Bee Flight 2 realized what the buffets may have come from. Breaking silence once more, Armand opened his comms again.

"Shadow that ship."

* * *

 **Hey guys, NicodemusV here. I just want to clarify a few things.**

 **My update schedule is two weeks. That means every two weeks, one of my stories is updated. In this turn, _The New World_ was updated. Next up on the update list is _The Age of Sail_. **

**Now, about the military aspect of this fic.**

 **I'm not a serviceman, but I have major respect to those who have served, regardless of what side they were on in whatever war they fought in. To enlist or be drafted into service for your country is an honorable action.**

 **Carrier Strike Group _Enterprise_ (CSG 11) is one of two forward deployed carriers, the other being the _Ronald Reagan_. CSG 11 is composed of the following ships.**

 _ **1x Gerald R. Ford class Supercarrier (USS Enterprise CVN-80)**_

 _ **2x Ticonderoga class Guided Missile Cruisers (USS Secular CG-74 & USS Capstant CG-75)**_

 _ **3x Arleigh Burke class Guided Missile Destroyers (USS Mustin DDG-127, USS Damasche DDG-128, & USS Pericles DDG-129)**_

 _ **2x Los-Angeles class Fast Attack Submarines (USS Damocles SSN-774 & USS Acropolis SSN-775)**_

 ** _2x Supply class Fast Combat Support Ship (USS Polaris T-AOE-11 & USS Acticia T-AOE-12)_**

 **You may notice that some of the craft in the story are still in development in the real world, such as the _Zumwalt class Guided Missile Destroyer, F-35C Lightning II,_ or the _Gerald R. Ford class Supercarrier_. In order to give America as much of an edge in a world with superhumans, mechs, and armored flying airships, I have altered the development history of these vessels so that they are fit for service by the time of 2016.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello readers, NicodemusV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World._**

 **Been a while since the last update, right? This one story updated every two weeks schedule seems pretty long, to both you and me.**

 **So, I've come with the self-agreement that if a chapter is finished ahead of schedule, it will be posted ahead of it's due date and the schedule adjusted accordingly. Seems like a waste of an Author's Note, but I just gotta have something to fill up this intro.**

 **Oh, and if you guy's are wondering "where's all the ground combat"? "where's muh US Navy liberation force"? It's coming. Might even be in the next chapter.**

 **And without further ado...**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY nor am I affiliated with Rooster Teeth (surprise disclaimer!)**_

* * *

 _"The Aslean-class destroyer is the primary airship that the Atlesian Navy employs on the majority of it's missions and operations. Armed with a state of the art PDS-34A1 "Porcupine" point defense system, four Mk. 37 plasma-laser heavy cannons, 25 Vertical Missile Launch Tubes (VMLT), with three Multi Purpose Explosive Missiles (MPEM) per tube, X-band All Weather Radar (AWR), and an Autonomous Fire Control System (AFCS, courtesy of the SDC), the Aslean-class destroyer is the lovechild between technology and military. The first three versions were developed by Dust Dynamics after a government Request For Information (RFI), and a fourth version is being developed by the SDC after the purchase of Dust Dynamics by the SDC. It has served the Atlesian Navy faithfully since it's introduction, living long after the heavier Crusader-class cruisers and Remington-class battle-carriers were developed._

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Valean Airspace_

 _ANV Iridescent (DD-121)_

 _Time: 0138_

Captain Rachel Selene Crimson was tense. Tenser than a woman of her age should be.

She by no means had _worry lines_ of all things, but the state of heightened alert they were ordered to forced her to put on the business face.

She sat in her Captain's chair, her solace among the frenzy that was currently the bridge. Her red eyes and pale skin gave her the impression of a movie star, or one of those soap-opera actresses. Her dark red hair was tied up in a constricting bun, accentuating her form fitting, grey Atlesian Navy uniform. Her eyes stared directly ahead, looking at the dark clouds in front of her. Less than an hour ago, Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia ordered all airships to a height of 15000 feet, away from Valean airspace and over the southern part of the Emerald Forest. It was done in order to prevent further downings and hijacking of another ship, evident by the destruction of the _ANV Everlasting_ and the hijacking of the _ANV Future Red._

Protocol deemed that all compromised vessels were to be scuttled, whether by an internal or external force.

And so, to prevent the fall of her own vessel, Rachel ordered full steam to the rendezvous point with the rest of the Atlesian Navy. They first rose to the target height of 15000, then began steaming as fast as possible away from the combat zone and to the oxymoronical safety of the southern Emerald Forest.

"Ma'am," the voice of her radar officer pulled her away from her thoughts. "We're detecting a group of six unknowns trailing behind us, bearing one-eight-zero. They're keeping pace behind us, but their radar signatures are inherently tiny. Too small to be any Nevermore. They're also too fast to be any Bullhead either."

"When did we achieve radar contact with them?" Rachel questioned. She was not scared, she was captain of one of the Atlas Navy's most advanced warships. Any threat had to get through 125 mm of dust reinforced metal alloys and the numerous weapons systems the ship kept under her belt.

"We achieved radar contact no less than two minutes ago. Judging by how close they were when we finally got contact, I suggest that they are mechanical craft of sorts. What type, however, is unknown to me, Ma'am." The radar officer, a mister Desmond Selvers, finished with a questioning tone. He was right, there are no craft in the Atlas military that is apparently stealthy, and absolutely no airborne craft that can keep up with an _Aslean-class_ destroyer at full steam. There was always the chance it was a black project by the military, but Rachel chose rather not to think about that.

"Bring all weapons systems online. Prime tubes 1-10. Have the plasma-laser cannons at 65% discharge and deploy the Porcupine system to cover all 180 degrees aft of this ship. Have we tried contacting them?" As the weapons officer and fire control officer went to work on preparing the _Iridescent_ for battle, Selvers replied a resounding 'No'.

"It seems that our methods of communication are incompatible, Ma'am. We tried hailing them on numerous frequencies, but it seems as though they are independent of the CCT and it's sub-levels."

Sighing, Rachel palmed her face for a bit before suddenly issuing more orders. "Engineering, bring us down to standard speed. Weapons, I want the status of our armament. Radar, can we get a visual on our bogies?"

Selvers turned back to his station and redirected one of the CCTV's over to the rear of the ship. While it was not a great view, it provided a good profile of the unknown craft. "Unknowns appear to be some sort of aircraft, military in nature and armed by the looks of it. Appears to be missiles and a rotary cannon deployed on them."

"Put it up on the main screen."

Almost instantly, the feed from the CCTV was displayed on a holographic viewing board. Any officer who wasn't preoccupied with their task took the time to look at the strange craft. From the front, it looked like a bulbous sausage with long, thin wings coming out the sides. Towards the center was an intake, curved and radar reflective by design. But what really shocked them the most was the cockpit in the center, a razorback canopy coming down in a glass slope.

"Zoom in on the cockpit and enhance!"

After the image cleared up and the pixels smoothed out, the helmet of a humanoid pilot could be visible. What looked like a respirator was attached to the mouth area, two glowing green eyes could be seen through the glass, and two cylinders extended out of the top of the helmet, giving the very odd look of some humanoid alien.

As if in response to his being zoomed in at, the pilot put a hand up and waved to the camera, in a manner reminiscent of a goodbye.

Before suddenly pulling up and to the right, away from the sight of the Atlesians. No sooner did the pilot do that, did the radar officer suddenly lose contact with the crafts. The feed was cut, and a deafening roar could be heard throughout the bridge from the afterburners on the unknown craft.

"Ma'am," this time her navigational officer spoke up. "We are nearing the rendezvous point with the rest of the fleet."

Rachel was snapped out of her trance with that information. Composing herself and coming out of the shock of what she had just seen, she addressed the officer.

"Y-yes. Comms, report to the Fleet Admiral that the _ANV Iridescent_ _, DD-121_ is checking in."

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _1 mile off the Valean Coast_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Troop Company of Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Time: 0140 (1:40AM)_

Vale was a disaster zone. Everywhere, from the port to Beacon Academy had Grimm crawling all over the place. They roamed the streets unopposed, feasting on the stragglers who failed to escape and lone, wounded Hunters and Huntresses who were separated from their team. And not only the Grimm. Hacked, corrupt Atlesian Knight AK-200s and AK-130s marched along the streets, backed by lumbering, automated Atlesian Paladin-290s. They shot up Hunters and Huntresses, killed civilians, and wreaked havoc across Vale. The Hunters, while skillful, could not withstand the overwhelming numbers of the rogue Atlesian Knights and Paladins.

But not for long.

In the port area of Vale, Beowolves and Ursas were sniffing the ground, searching for humans to feast on. However, a noise could be heard coming from the distance, coming from the ocean. They raised their noses in apprehension and sniffed the air to find out what the source of the noise was.

 ** _*THUMPTHUMPTHUMP*_**

Their snouts turned to the sea, a few Beowolves and Ursas howling and roaring in challenge of the noise.

 _ ***THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP***_

They snarled and they jumped up at the air. They knew what the sound was, they knew it could only mean one thing.

Humans.

 _ ***THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP***_

Suddenly, the source of the offending noise flew overhead. Fourteen steel grey MH-60 _Seahawks_ flew directly above the port of Vale. Seven of them hovered above the city while the other seven moved forward to Beacon Academy.

Boots on the ground, guns raised, trigger fingers at the ready, a total of 70 of the US Navy's enlisted complement touched down in Vale, with more to come.

Let the liberation begin.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _3 miles off the Valean Coast_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Troop Company of Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Time: 0125 15 minutes prior to landfall of Troop Company Enterprise (1:25AM)_

Leading Seaman Kent Patrickson performed a quick inspection of his M4A1 before making landfall on the city under siege ahead of him. He and his fireteam were on board an MH-60 _Seahawk_ en route to the city. Trying to achieve a sense of tranquility, his own little "calm before the storm" mindset as he called it, he drowned out the sound of the helicopter blades and closed his eyes, reviewing the mission guidelines and what the overall objective was.

The mission briefing was very short, as a mission brief during this state should be, and the general outline of the mission was also very simple.

There would be a total of fourteen MH-60 _Seahawks_ making trips to and from the strike group. The first two trips would be ferrying over approximately 140 enlisted sailors, a company's worth, to the city in order to secure a suitable LZ from which evacuations could be made. Once a proper LZ has been made, the rest of the _Seahawks_ would continue making trips to and from the strike group while carrying any civilians they found in the city. Evacuation of as many civilians as possible was the primary goal.

The secondary goal would be to make contact with the city's government forces and, if possible, coordinate with them to help make evacuation as efficient as possible. If the presence of the foreign airship was indeed there to help, then there was a major chance that US forces would make contact with them in the city.

The third, and least immediate goal for the troopers was to eliminate all hostile threats in the area. The city was deemed an active combat zone by the brass and would be treated as such. Hostile threats that would be considered too much for the enlisted would be dealt with by CAS from a squadron from the _Enterprise_ , VFA-196 _Rabid Jackals_ , to be exact. Carrier Strike Group _Enterprise,_ with all it's firepower, was not exactly equipped to conduct a large scale invasion. They were equipped to do a FONOP and nothing more-in short, they were caught with their pants down.

The mission would be named _Operation Angel Fall_.

A voice broke Patrick's thoughts. It was the pilot of the _Seahawk_. "We're touching down in two mikes. You'll be deployed via fast-rappel in a staggered position to the other troops along a street. Once you're down, you're on your own until the other half of the company touches down."

Patrick's fireteam gave a resounding "Aye" before mentally preparing themselves for the upcoming battle. Unlike himself, Patrick's fellow sailors liked to get in their warrior state of mind just before they reached the field.

Sandra was clutching her M4A1 to her chest, reciting a prayer.

Anders had his head down, his own M4A1 being used as a staff with his forehead to the butt of the carbine.

Gilligan was stoic, the young Seaman had his Mk 11 Mod 0 at his side. Inside however, he was nervous as all heck. Of the fireteam, he was the newest among them, having been transferred to CSG 11 from Honolulu. The young marksman was having pre-battle jitters. It would be his first real taste of combat.

And finally, the only other veteran in the team besides Patrick, Sampson. While he prepared himself mentally just before battle like his fellow teammates, he did so with a professional ease. His M249 LMG was held in his arms at a low ready state and his eyes were facing forward. He took calm, controlled breaths as he cleared his mind of any distractions.

The _Seahawks_ flew over the city-scape, passing over destroyed buildings and roofs that had survivors on top of them, waving to the helicopters. Some soldiers waved back, making sure the survivors knew they had seen them. Fireteam leaders made mental notes as to where they were located.

Seven _Seahawks_ slowed down to a hover in the port area of Vale, the other seven flying onward to the castle above. Patrick noticed the giant black bears and wolves scattered throughout the city. His fireteam would be a part of the company that would operate in the urban zone. While the _Seahawks_ were slowing down to a hover, some Leading Seamen from the other teams wondered if their weapons would have any effect on the monstrous bears and wolves they saw.

As soon as the copters were in position, rappel lines went down from both sides of all craft along the street. Almost immediately, sailors were grabbing the lines and rappelling down to the street below, moving out of the way of the line and getting into a defensive position at the base, scanning for any immediate threats. Once all the sailors were on the field, fireteam leaders silently signaled for their respective teams to move. They were trying to be as quiet as possible, as if the sound of the air being beat into submission by the helicopters blades weren't loud enough.

Patrick gestured for Sandra to take rearguard, with Anders, Gilligan, and Sampson moving in front of her. They moved silently along the streets of the city, passing by numerous buildings and broken store fronts. Two minutes into the operation, Patrick held his fist up, noting that the fireteam a ways in front of him had also stopped. The teams were checking in on each other, standard procedure for any field op.

 _"Lieutenant Commander Conrad here. All fireteams check in."_

 _"Blaine here."_

 _"Tehran here."_

 _"Lee here."_

 _"Patrick here."_

As the rest of the fireteams of the _Enterprise_ TroopCompany reported in, Patrick's team went on the move again. The fireteam in front of him had also started moving, their weapons at a low ready stance and the group in a wide formation.

Moving down the street, the company leader radioed in again. _"All teams, begin branching off down each street. Remain in sight of another friendly group at all times. Maintain radio contact. Sitreps every fifteen minutes boys, any hostile contact is to be immediately reported. Out."_

Patrick radioed to the group in front of them that they'd be right behind them. The leader, Blaine, acknowledged their support and continued moving down the street. They weaved down alleys, passed by ruined buildings, and maneuvered around wreckage, but their advancement was impeded by the fog from earlier fires and explosions. The sky was still dark, but the moon lit their paths. Fortunately for the Troop Company, all soldiers of the U.S Armed Forces wore the now standard equipment glasses known as the Optical Tactical Interface Control System (OPTICS).

The OPTICS was the child of a program created by DARPA in 2006, during the Iraq War. The amount of friendly fire incidents, while small, raised concern among the military brass, and a program to reduce friendly fire and false flag incidents was created. While the use of the Identification Friend or Foe (IFF) system helped, it did not help to increase battle efficiency on the tactical level. Soldiers still hesitated to fire on distant enemies, fearing that it would be an allied soldier. Thus, the OPTICS was created and eventually added as part of the standard gear of a U.S. soldier.

The only downside is that it outlined and colored in the eyes of the wearer a dark green, similar to the helmet used by F-35 pilots. Whether this is good or bad thing is debatable, since it scared off attackers before they could fire.

Blaine and his team kept on advancing down the street. His group was about to turn a corner before suddenly stopping, Blaine's fist in the air.

 _"Yo, Patrick, got contact around the corner. Looks like robotic clone troopers."_

 _"Look like infantry to you? Any armor support?"_

One of Blaine's team members leaned around the corner, zooming in with his rifle scope. Words were whispered to Blaine's ears before reporting again.

 _"Looks like a mech is along with them. Clone's got rifles and the mech is pretty heavily armed, strapped with two cannons on the sides, rockets on the back, and dual barrel chainguns mounted on the cannons. We could handle the clones, might need CAS on the mech."_

 _"Headcount?"_

 _"Eleven foot soldiers and one mech. Standard size squad."_

 _"Any other details? I'm contacting the Lieutenant Commander."_

 _"Looks like they're all drones, can't see any skin or a pilot in the mech. Mech might be AA capable. All o' them also got red eyes. Rogues maybe."_

Patrick radioed the Lieutenant Commander for advisory on how to deal with the mech. Of course, he already knew the answer, but they had the element of surprise on their side, the enemy hadn't noticed them yet.

 _"Leading Seaman Patrick, do not engage until backup has arrived. Tehran and Ferruci are on their way to you. They'll help take down the mech. You also got CAS on standby, just need to designate using your OPTICS. Give me sitrep after engaging. Out."_

One of the reasons that the OPTICS was integrated into the U.S. Armed Forces was it's multi role capability. It could work in conjunction with aircraft, able to receive necessary information from any AWACS aircraft or Link 16 enabled aircraft in the sky. It had a built in laser designator alongside the integrated IFF, making marking targets easier for troops on the ground and for operational commanders to get a better grasp of the battlefield.

"Sir, Tehran and Lee are arriving. They're across the street from Blaine," Sampson noted with his OPTICS. And just as mentioned, Tehran and Lee emerged from the fog, showing up with a little green circle on their chests. Not small enough to be indistinguishable, but enough to be noticeable as friendlies.

 _"We should plan out a proper atta-"_ Lee was cut off as the Atlesian squad of AK-200s and the Paladin-290 turned the corner and saw the sailors hiding from them around the corner. They immediately fired their weapons at the soldiers, clipping one of Blaine's men in the soldier.

"Fuck," Patrick swore. Blaine's team was pulling back the wounded comrade, one of his men dragging him back towards Patrick's group. Any semblance of a proper attack plan was thrown out the window with the Knight's attack. Dozens of plasma rounds peppered the street, harmlessly passing by as the groups pulled back a little. Two of them had even holstered their rifles and deployed some sort of combat knife from their forearms, running towards the group to engage in a melee fight.

The tactical comms burst to life when the two Knights charged. It had one message.

 _"Suppressive fire!"_

"Gilligan! Sampson! Suppressive fire! Sandra, Anders, with me!"

While Sandra, Anders, and Patrick retreated back, Gilligan and Sampson laid fire downrange. Gilligan was in his battle mindset, expertly shooting with his Mk 11 Mod 0 at the weak parts of the charging Knight's armor, blasting pieces of metal off their joints and midsection, eventually downing one with a shot to the head. Sampson was constantly firing his M249, ripping apart a charging Knight and then continuing to fire at the advancing enemy Knights. Pieces of armor and glass littered the street, while empty shell casings surrounded Sampson and Gilligan's position.

They weren't the only one's to hurl some lead at the Knights. Blaine's group had also left their support firing at the enemy, blowing to pieces the AK-200s. Tehran and Lee's groups focused fire at the mech, gathering it's attention.

 _"Lieutenant Commander, this is Patrick! We have engaged the enemy. The clone troopers were easily dispatched, the mech's a different story! Heavily armored and mobile, small arms fire ineffective!"_

 _"Entire company is moving in on your position, son, hold out until we get there!"_

Swearing, Patrick called back Sampson and Gilligan. With all the Knights a pile of scrap metal, the Advanced Paladin-290 stood in the middle of the street. It was surrounded by the remains of it's fellow comrades, and it's height and stature gave it a menacing look. No one fired their weapons, for their bullets were too small to really damage it.

The Paladin's view ports glowed a deep red, before it's dual barreled chainguns started spinning and it's cannons glowed. On it's back, the rockets could be seen preparing to fire.

 _"RETREAT! RETREAT! ALL FIRETEAMS RETREAT BACK TO COVER!"_

Chain of command be damned, as soon as Blaine saw the mech's eyes glow like the Devil, he shouted out retreat, both on the comms and in the open.

A _hailstorm_ of plasma rounds, plasma-laser cannon shells, and rockets flew downrange towards the sailors. It's torso turned to one side before going in a semi-circle around to Tehran and Lee's position, chainguns and cannons and rockets being fired all the while.

 _"TAKE COVE-"_ was the universal cry of the soldier's Leading Seamen, as enemy fire impacted all around them. Blaine was knocked off his feet and a couple of Tehran's men were hit by the plasma rounds, their bodies lying limp in the street. Gilligan had gotten snagged by a plasma round to his left thigh, the flesh burning and cauterizing itself before exiting out the back. He fell to his knees, crying out in pain. His Mk 11 Mod 0 was out of his hands, his body too much in agony to wield it properly.

"Patrick," Anders yelled over the ringing in his ears, "the Lieutenant Commander's here! And the rest of the company!"

True to his words, the Lieutenant Commander and company emerged from the fog across the street, firing their weapons as they charged to Lee and Tehran's position. Grenades were thrown at the mech, detonating near it's feet and staggering it's footing a bit. In response, it fired it's chainguns and cannons at the charging U.S. sailors. However, their formation was too wide for the attack to be effective. It fired the rest of it's rockets, impacting the buildings to either side of the men and crushing some of them underneath it.

Six green circles blinked out of existence.

 _"Goddamn!"_ yelled Tehran. _"We're taking down this son of a bitch, whether or not our birds decide to shit on it or not!"_

Invigorated by his cry, the other sailors _roared_ in defiance. They all focused fire on the mech, 5.56 and 7.62 NATO rounds impacting the mech's armor and laser targeting systems. It's laser sights destroyed, it fired wildly, energy cannons and chainguns hitting buildings and shattering glass all around the soldiers.

Annoyed by the pepper spray of small arms fire, it retracted it's weapons and deployed what appeared to be _fists_. It charged the company, ignoring Blaine and Patrick's fire from behind, intending to smash all the little humans underneath it's mechanized boxing gloves.

But just as it jumped up to come down and crush the sailors, four AGM-65 _Mavericks_ impacted it's body, detonating all across it's arms, torso, and legs. It was launched into the side of a building, the sheer force of having approximately _2680 lbs_ of penetrating blast-fragmentation warheads literally knock it off it's feet. The sailors cheered at the falling of the metal beast, their cheers becoming even _louder_ when an F/A-18 _Super Hornet_ made a low pass overhead, it's afterburners glowing in the night sky.

It popped flares, whether to distract possible enemies or just to _show off_ , it pulled up sharply as the flares were deployed, giving off an _angel of death_ look. The roar of it's engines could be heard all throughout the night, declaring itself as a warning to all who even _dared_ to oppose it.

Patrick peered through the smoke and focused his eyes on the Lieutenant Commander. His face was grim, and blood streaked down from his forehead, trickling down and around his eye, giving off a blood lusty look.

He thought he could see his hand come down from the laser designator switch on his OPTICS.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Valean Airspace_

 _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet_

 _ANV Impenetrable Shield_

 _Time: 0155 (1:55AM)_

Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia watched through the holographic viewing board the F/A-18 _Super Hornet_ destroy the mech. He had seen everything, from the flight of the MH-60 _Seahawks,_ to the fast-rappel of the sailors, to their advancement and encounter of the rogue AK-200s and Paladin-290, to the decimation of the Knights, and the eventual downfall of the Paladin-290 by the _explosive_ munitions of the _Super Hornet_. He was not the only one watching either.

Since the _ANV Iridescent_ reported to the fleet at 0141AM, it's Captain, Rachel Selena Crimson, reported being shadowed by six unidentified flying objects. They had supposedly sneaked up to her ship and trailed behind them, probably much slower than they could go, and just followed her before finally being noticed by the radar officer.

Herman believed her dispatch, since his own radar officer detected a large group of naval vessels show up on radar at approximately 0119AM. And at 0136AM, detected a group of six aircraft come into Vale airspace, which promptly engaged a group of three Giant Nevermores. Rachel's account of being shadowed by six _stealth profiled_ aircraft confirmed the radar man's suspicion of there being another six aircraft, and then the arrival of fourteen bladed flying vehicles detected at 0125AM.

All of them had come from the group of naval vessels, and quite frankly, what with the Grimm invading, Vale under attack, AK-200s, 130s, and 290s getting hacked and going rogue, the hijacking of _ANV Future Red_ and downing of _ANV Everlasting_ , and the loss of contact with General James Ironwood, the appearance of a large group of naval vessels showing up off Vale's coast and launching what appears to be a _motherfucking invasion force_ , Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia had no choice but to order the fleet away from Vale and for every ship to be on high alert.

But back to the movie.

The feed from his ships CCTV, which had the longest range and best quality, was streamed to the other airships in the fleet, making sure every Captain except the Captain's of the _Future Red_ and _Everlasting_ , bless their souls, saw what he was seeing.

Not bothering to order someone to shut off the feed, Herman opened up a visual channel which appeared in a corner of the holographic viewing board. Clearing his throat, he addressed the shell shocked Captains and subsequent crew.

"My fellow Atlesian cohorts," Herman began, "it has become apparent that these foreign soldiers, who hail from the sea, have come to Vale. Whether their intent and purpose is to liberate it or subjugate it to whatever foreign land they come from, we must remind ourselves that we, as Atlesians, were here _first_."

Herman paused for a second, looking around at his crew and command staff, who were giving him confused looks.

 _We were here first?_ _What is that supposed to mean?_

"We, under the orders of the righteous Atlesian council and at the request of our Valean allies, we, were charged with the defense and security of not only the Amity Coliseum and Beacon Academy, but _all of Vale!_ "

Not bothering to let people think about what that means, Herman continued again, with much more gusto and concealed anger.

"And quite frankly, my fellow Atlesian brothers in arms, we have _**failed**_ _to do so!"_

The bridge fell silent at the Fleet Admiral's words. Not even the other Captains spoke up, their heads downcast and to

* * *

the floor, their eyes filled with shame. They couldn't say anything to argue against the Fleet Admiral's claims, because they _didn't have anything in the first place_.

It was true. The Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet failed to protect Vale and her citizens.

"Our own forces have turned against us! The White Fang insurgency roams unopposed, gunning down the Valean people and silencing their resistance! Grimm terrorize the city, feasting upon the Valean people's cries and despair! Beacon Academy has fallen and we have even lost contact _with our own General!_ " The Fleet Admiral roared.

Letting all that info sink in, he studied the faces of his crew. Some had looks of shame, some of anger. But most, most had looks of _defeat_.

"You could say," Herman said in a low, baritone voice, "that these people from the sea have come to take our place."

Now _that_ got them looking. Their heads rose in defiance of the Fleet Admiral's words. They were the _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet for dust's sake!_

Herman continued, "that they have come to accomplish what we have failed to achieve. That they have come to take our mantle of responsibility, our standing orders to defend Vale by _whatever means necessary!"_

"And while they deploy their forces with their strange craft, and dispatch the rogue Atlesian forces and Grimm with impunity, and deploy over Beacon to eliminate all hostile forces there, we have the _gall_ to hide up here in our ships, cowering in fear over being hijacked and destroyed, and letting these foreigners _do our jobs for us!_ Well, I say, _I. Say._ That we come out of our shells. That we sharpen our teeth and lick our wounds. I say, that we _descend from the heavens_ with our guns _hot_ and our blades _drawn!"_

The bridge burst into a cheer, whooping and hollering with all their might, galvanized by the Fleet Admiral's words. Some soldiers had their guns in the air, officers were yelling and threw their hats to the heavens, and others simply smiled at the happiness, at the awe-inspiring speech.

But Herman was not done yet.

Opening a fleet wide channel and connecting to every PA system in every ship in the fleet, he cried.

" _To arms, my brothers and sisters! To arms! We shall show the Grimm menace and these foreigners just who dominates the skies of this world! We shall show the White Fang that we have not been intimidated by their acts of grandeur! Sally forth, my Atlesian comrades, sally forth to meet the jaws of negativity with our blades of resolve!_

 _" **We will not be defeated!"**_

* * *

 **Woo, what a chapter huh? I'm actually really proud of this one, I feel that the military speech was much better than the one aboard the _Enterprise_.**

 **Now about the contents of the Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet, Vale Detachment. It is composed of the following.**

 **30x _Aslean class destroyers_**

 ** _10x Zealot class cruisers_**

 ** _5x Cavalier class battleships_**

 ** _1x Illustrious class battle-carriers_**

 **Keep in mind that this is not all of the Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet. General Ironwood isn't as stupid as to bring his entire air fleet to Vale, and neither is the Atlas Council.**

 **Next story to be updated: _The Age of Sail_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello guys and gals, NicodemusV here with another chapter of** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Yea, I know, I lied last chapter about any sort of ground combat showing up soon. Gave it you all early! :3 That one instance of combat was specifically US Navy vs. Corrupt Atlas Droids and Mech, but there'll be many others (pretty soon).**

 **Before someone mentions it, I know how air combat works; BVR, WVR, stealth, RCS, IRST, PESA, AESA, etc. It wouldn't be fun to read about how VFA-197** ** _Queen Bees_** **defeated the Giant Nevermores by selecting them on their radar and pressing the fire button would it?**

 **Now for some responses to reviews:**

 **wpago: Yeah, now that you mention it, it would've been better to have a USMC insert instead of the US Navy. But it wouldn't fit with the real world narrative concerning the real world issues plaguing the SCS. Think of the troops that landed on Vale as sailors who volunteered to disembark for the trip and the ship had a small armory on board that they had access to.**

 **Prince of Austria: Well, you know the Atlesians, hehe. ;] Gotta have those awe-inspiring names so the populace don't become depressed and bring the Grimm crashing down on them!**

 **Phantom: Thanks man, I really appreciate your support. I'm an avid reader, but this is my first attempt at an original work with my own machinations.**

 **Damn, this intro note went on a lot longer than I wanted it to be. And so, without further ado...**

 **I do not own RWBY**

* * *

 _"The PCR-26-IIA1 (Plasma Combat Rifle) is the main combat rifle employed by the Atlesian armed forces. Developed by Concellia Arms Co. for the Atlas military, it has seen extensive upgrades since it's introduction. Originally designed in anticipation of another Great War, the weapon was seen as a symbol of the hate and mistrust between Kingdoms of the Great War 80 years ago. To remedy this, Concellia Arms. Co released another version with a bigger focus on anti-Grimm weaponry. Another version was developed with better modular capacity, allowing attachments such as laser sights, scopes, and flashlights to be used. The current PCR-26-IIA1 is used heavily by Atlesian military forces, though has been seen in the hands of a mercenary or Hunter, being heavily augmented and modified by the latter."_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Beacon Academy_

 _Evacuation Centre/Landing Pads_

 _Troop Company of Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Time: 0200 (2:00AM)_

While the Vale detachment of _Enterprise's_ troop company met considerable resistance, it was the opposite for the men and women of the Beacon detachment. When they had arrived, there was already an established LZ with evacuation procedures underway. The Troop Company had undergone the same procedure as the Vale detachment, fast-rappeling in a staggered position down the main venue leading into Beacon Academy. They came into contact with the official leading the evacuation and were currently contempt with remaining guard at the evacuation centre, _Seahawks_ making regular trips to and from the _Enterprise_ as well as wherever the Bullheads were taking the students.

There were many students and civilians still waiting for the next round of Bullheads and _Seahawks_ , including a certain team of individuals dressed in the colors of red, white, black, and yellow.

The yellow one was of priority to the sailors, she was waiting for an immediate MEDEVAC from a Bullhead or _Seahawk._ Her arm stump had been wrapped up by a hospital corpsman as soon as he noticed it, stemming any bleeding as much as possible with what he had on him before regrouping with his unit. He would just be some random hospital corpsman to the world, but to Team RWBY, he'd be known as Charlie Wickerson

Aside from the yellow one, the red one was also waiting for MEDEVAC from a Bullhead or _Seahawk_. Her apparent partner, the white one, known as Weiss Schnee, had insisted they could not do anything for Ruby, the red one. And it was true. They couldn't do much for her, not without proper medical facilities and supplies.

After roaming around making sure no one else was injured or hurt in some way, Seaman Charlie Wickerson regrouped with his unit at the front, watching for any hostiles that may stray into the area. He picked up his M4A1 and crouched next to his fireteam's leader, Leading Seaman Jarvis Lorrie.

"No one else save for that blond and the brunette, eh?" Lorrie spoke with a heavy New York accent, but Charlie could understand through the slurs of his voice.

"Nope, not one. I asked a lot of 'em if they needed help, saw a lot with scars and cuts of sorts, a few gashes here and there, but they all refused. Somethin' about how their "aura" will fix it, whatever the fuck that is."

"I been hearin' a lot 'bout that too, this "aura" schmuck. Didn't bother askin' tho', can't be bothered what with the mission and all."

"Aye, they already look at us pretty weirdly, like they've never seen soldiers with blue camos."

"Mate, I'm pretty sure they think we're a part of tha' military with the white armor and shit, a part o' this "Atlas" they call."

"Eh, our jobs to get the civvies out and get back to our ship anyways, associate me with their gov'ment for all I care."

The two men shared a hearty laugh before getting back to business. Like the two, the rest of the fireteams were on watch, save for the few sent out to search for more survivors, and they emitted a happy yet serious air about them. Like the sailors could drop the cards and jokes and immediately put on a business face at any moment. It reassured the students as well as the contingent of Atlas soldiers that they were in relative safety for now.

"Speakin' of our jobs, where's the fireteams sent out to search for more survivors? I remember having to check in every five minutes or so."

Jarvis' face went dead serious, trying to remember the last time he'd heard over the radio of his fellow sailors. "Can't... Can't remember. It's been what, fifteen-twenty minutes since they were out? Maybe the Lieutenant Commanders got something."

"Let me check." Wickerson engaged comms with his OPTICS.

 _"Lieutenant Commander, Seaman Wickerson. Haven't heard sitrep from fireteams out on SAR in little over 15-20 minutes."_

It took a moment for Wickerson to get a reply, but just as he heard the Lieutenant Commander's voice, there was another, albeit far off, voice that cut through the air. Yells came from all the fireteams on watch.

 _"12 o' clock!"_

Immediately, Wickerson and every sailor near him raised their guns, multiple _clicks_ could be heard with safetys being flipped off and charging handles being racked. Wickerson's own M4A1 had it's sights zeroed in directly in front of him, finger off the trigger, eyes scanning the horizon. The sound attracted some of the Atlesian soldiers to join the sailors, adding their own firepower to the mix.

 _"Sto-stop! Friendly! Friendly!"_

A blue camoed sailor came sprinting towards the line, a student in a fireman's carry and another three students behind him. Another sailor was trailing behind the five, providing rearguard. Her gun was low, finger on the trigger, hands shaking visibly. Her eyes screamed horror.

The sailors lowered their guns, three of them rushing out to receive the wounded and scan for wounds. Wickerson joined them. He went directly to the sailor that had the student in a fireman's carry, Leading Seaman Daryl Iglesias. Daryl was bent over, his M4A1 on the ground next to him. He was breathing heavily, his hands and torso bloodied.

"Hey, hey, you're ok now," Wickerson lead the man behind the defensive line, near the students. He grabbed the man's gun, flipping the safety on and removing the magazine, while ejecting the chambered round. The Lieutenant Commander rushed over, wanting to get a sitrep as soon as possible.

"Speak to me son, what was out there? Where's the rest of the teams?"

The poor man couldn't speak, he was still breathing too heavily. Wickerson gave him some water, the man sipping wildly from the lid.

"Sir, maybe we should let him rest befor-"

Daryl spoke up, suddenly and exhaustingly, as if it took all his breath to say just a few words.

 _"Enemy,"_ he gasped out, "Animals, mutant, mutant animals."

The Lieutenant Commander and Wickerson listened intently, the latter checking for any more bleeds.

"We, we got swarmed," he seized the water bottle from Wickerson, taking huge, uncontrolled gulps. "Lost almost everyone, our weapons did little. Took down a couple bears before getting ripped to shreds. I- I lost my who-whole team."

Tears started to stream down his face, accenting his bloody, sweat stained skin. "I failed them, couldn't get them out. Survivors we found, couldn't get them out. Every other team, couldn't get them out. Jumped on us and bit into us, throwing us 'gainst the walls, tearin' us in half. 'Member Oliver jus' blowin' 'imself apart, jus', jus' like that. He took a bastard down with 'im, he always was ballsy, ballsiest of us all. Didn't think he'd actually do it when he said-"

"Alright, that's enough son, I've heard enough. Someone get him on the next chopper out! I want woun-" As the Lieutenant Commander barked out orders, Wickerson began getting Daryl over to the evac centre. A _Seahawk_ was inbound, a Bullhead flying next to it. It's blades pierced the air, letting everyone know that the next chopper was coming soon.

Everyone.

Seaman Charles Wickerson's comms burst to life.

 _"Hostile contact 12 o' clock!"_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Valean Airspace_

 _17th Atlesian Infantry Battalion_

 _Time: 0204 (2:04AM)_

A small wing's worth of Atlesian Dropships, each containing ten Atlesian soldiers, flew towards Beacon Academy, another small wing's worth heading towards Vale. Their bulbous forms dotted the sky, white hulls threading the dark clouds. The barrels of dual mounted triple-barrel gatling cannons pointed forward in the darkness, acting as fangs that would trap enemies in it's clutch, trapping them and bleeding their life out.

Inside, ten human soldiers stood in two row of five, their PCR-26-IIA1s pointed downwards, plasma charges hot and ready to fire. They faced the open aft ramp of the Dropship, the winds doing nothing to their unwavering forms. They stood silently, lips in neutral form and eyes covered by their advanced helmets, letting them see through the worst conditions.

 _"Alright boys, we're arriving at Beacon Academy. Looks like those foreigners are here too, they look to be in a firefight. Touching down in 1 mike, prepare for rapid descent and deploy."_ The pilot stopped his message there. He pushed down on the stick, sending the Dropship in a steep dive. The other Dropships followed suit, their cargo adjusting for the change in surface. In less than a minute, the Dropships descended 15,000 feet. As soon as they touched down, Sergeant Rodrigio Limé lead his squad out to the defensive line held by the foreigners.

 _"Go go go, LZ is hot, LZ is hot! Good hunting, grunts!"_

 _"Roger, flyboy, Sergeant over and out! Let's get going squad!"_

One hundred Dropships landed all over the landing pads of Beacon and one hundred Dropships immediately flew off. A few broke off from the wing and performed a single strafing run on the horde of Grimm before regrouping. Their triple-barrel gatling cannons thundered plasma rounds into the Grimm, burning through their flesh and gutting internal instruments.

Running past students and wounded, Sergeant Limé grouped up with the foreigner's defensive line, his squad forming up on either side of him. Some of the men gave them odd looks, but ultimately continued raining plasma and lead on the monsters in front of them.

 _"Reinforce that left flank!"_

 _"Grenade out!"_

 _"Reloading, reloading!"_

Various shouts and cries emanated from the defensive line, coming from the foreigners and soldiers alike. Bullet casings and empty plasma charges littered the ground, the sound of gunfire ringing all throughout the air. The roars and death cries of the Grimm also added into the mix, forming a symphony of explosions, gunfire, shouts, cries, and roars.

Limé ran over to who he assumed was the leader of the defensive line. There were a lot of troops he had to traverse around, evident by the hundreds of guns firing all the time. There were at least 600 soldiers at the line, with multiple Bullheads and _Seahawks_ making trips, spurred faster by the nearby Grimm horde.

"Hey!" He put a hand on the Lieutenant Commander, "Are you the one in charge over here?!"

The Lieutenant Commander turned around, his gun's barrel hot from pouring lead downrange. "Why yes I am! You "Atlas"?"

"Yes I am! 17th Infantry Battalion!" Limé moved to shake the man's hand. "Sergeant Rodrigo Limé!"

The Lieutenant Commander returned the handshake. "Lieutenant Commander Quinn Hamilton, USS _Damasche_ of the _United States Navy!"_

"I'll have to admit, Lieutenant Commander, I've never seen you and your men before! You part of the group out in the sea that I've been hearing of?"

"Yes, we are Sergeant! I hope we'll be able to speak with your leaders after this shitshow is over."

"We'll pass your message up the chain of command as soon as possible!"

"Well then Limé," Hamilton put a hand on the shoulder of the Sergeant, "Let's get back to shootin' at the bastards!"

As they each returned to their respective tasks, two soldiers, opposite in their birthplace but alike in their mission, shouted above the cacophony of noise.

 _"Deathstalker!"_

 _"Fucking giant ass scorpion!"_

A portion of the guns turned on the Deathstalker, or "fucking giant ass scorpion," as the sailors called it. Yet as soon as they did, did the droves of Beowulves and Ursai get ever closer to the defensive line.

Sergeant Limé ran to his squad, his fingers on the comm switch on his helm.

 _"Squad, set up the launcher! The! Launcher!"_

With that order, Limé's squad immediately began setting up the special anti-Grimm munitions launcher. It was a tripod-mounted launcher capable of lobbing 50mm sized munitions with enough velocity to completely _lop_ off the head of any Deathstalker. They were best used in groups when facing large amounts of Grimm, and this time was no exception. Other Atlesian soldiers noticed Limé's squad setting up the launcher, dubbed the _Emancipator_ , and began setting up their own _Emancipators_.

In doing so, the amount of plasma being shot downrange decreased dramatically, to the point that the Grimm were close enough to see the red's of their eyes.

"Frags out!" A group of sailors pulled the pin on their respective grenades and chucked them at the oncoming Grimm, diminishing their infinite numbers.

 _"Rocket set up!"_

 _"This is Lieutenant Colonel Kazar Azuli, all rocket squads load DEP!"_

 _"Loading DEP!"_

"DEP," otherwise known as Dust Explosive Penetrator, is an ammunition type made for infantry units of the Atlesian military to help effectively deal with Grimm and enemy armor. It was just one of the many types of ammunition developed by the SDC for Atlas and it is produced in rocket, missile, torpedo, or ballistic forms. It is considered the "end all be all" ammo type for infantry and ground forces in general due to it's versatility and widespread use.

 _"In and primed!"_

 _"Fire!"_

Seven DEP rockets flew towards the Deathstalker, their pink light trails caused by the Anti-gravity and Fire Dust conveying their forms to be flares, or fireworks.

They impacted the Deathstalker at mach 1.6, resulting in a fiery explosion of Fire dust and knocking the corpse of the Deathstalker back a whole _two hundred_ feet, courtesy of the Anti-gravity dust. It was missing it's head and it's tail was cut half-off. The glowing, yellow pincer could be seen farther behind the corpse, the entire body having also crushed dozens of lesser Grimm beneath it.

"Thanks for the assist, ye Atlas soldiers! Our birds will take it from here!"

A few of them nodded in appreciation, while some continued firing with a bit of confusion.

 _Their "birds"? They mean those stick like Bullheads?_

It was then that Sergeant Limé noticed the green lasers pointing out towards the battlefield, aimed directly on the countless Grimm. While it did nothing to impede their advance, some of the sailors firing had a slight smile on their otherwise grisly faces.

 _"Taijitu! No, wait, a King Taijitu! And more damn Deathstalkers!"_

The Lieutenant Colonel blanched, and he promptly ordered the squads to reload DEP.

 _"Distance 400 meters!"_

As if sensing the increased fear from the humans, the incarnations of despair roared and charged forward with even more fervor than before. The King Taijitu seemingly mocked the humans, it's black, serpentine form lazily making it's way towards them, flanked by equally as lazy Giant Deathstalkers.

 _"DEP loaded!"_

 _"FIRE!"_

Another volley of pink and white surged forth from their outlets, eager to wreak havoc upon the body of the King Taijitu and Giant Deathstalkers. The Atlesian's lock on's were true, and they impacted upon the hides of the bigger Grimm.

It was not enough.

Three Giant Deathstalkers lay dead, but the King Taijitu held steadfast.

In anger, the snake Grimm rushed forward, baring it's fangs and shoving aside lesser Grimm that existed in it's path. It let out a might _HIISSSSSSSS_ before rearing up, preparing to stab straight down into the soldier's ranks, breaching their line.

Lieutenant Colonel Kazar Azuli went to order the retreat, but stopped himself. The student's were not done evacuating, and most were too traumatized or injured to assist in the defense.

"Hold fast men!" He drew his combat knife, as did the other Atlesian soldiers. They stared right into the eyes of the King Taijitu, daring it come forth and receive punishment.

It let out one sharp _HISSS_ before descending down into their ranks.

The sailors and soldiers alike braced for the impact, bodies ready to leap up and engage at a moment's notice.

But it never came.

Approximately _8,040 lbs_ of explosives rained down on the King Taijitu, it's reared up head plunging down to the ground with an enormous thud. The result of having _twelve_ AGM-65 _Maverick's_ completely _obliterated_ the spine of the snake, thus smothering it's dark soul with a display of light coming in the form of explosions. And to add insult to injury, three _Paveway_ laser-guided bombs dropped on the surrounding area, creating a mushroom cloud of black smoke and fire.

The offending "birds" did a low flyby of the battlefield, three F/A-18 _Super Hornets_ soared over the men, invigorating both the Atlesian and U.S. servicemen. They fired their M61A1 rotary cannons into the Grimm, who were disoriented by the extreme firepower displayed before them.

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT, YEAHH"

Surprisingly enough, this came from one of Sergeant Limé's own men. He couldn't blame the guy, it was indeed a spectacular performance.

 _"Alright men, I think we can safely rest now"_

A chorus of agreement came from the Atlesians, and it seemed the U.S. sailors were doing the same. Sergeant Limé plopped down onto the floor next to his squad, smiles going all around. Their faces were dirty, and blood streaked down some of their foreheads. But all in all, they were relatively unharmed. The student's were being loaded onto the Bullheads and _Seahawks_ , and the wounded were already loaded in.

The atmosphere was cozy, similar to that of a celebration after securing an important contract or deal. Everyone was happy, the student's spirits lifted by the soldier's camaraderie. It almost seemed like Atlas didn't get hacked or that Beacon didn't get attacked.

That is, until the first Beowulf leapt through the smoke of the bombs and behind the ranks of the men.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Beacon Academy_

 _Evacuation Centre_

 _450 meters away from defensive line_

 _Time: 0310 (3:10AM)_

"..."

 _"Wake up Ruby."_

"..."

 _"Ruby, wake up."_

"...?"

 _"I didn't think you'd grow up to be this kind of girl, Ruby."_

"!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Ruby Rose opened her silver eyes. She immediately got up, hands reaching for a nonexistent weapon. She made to call out for Yang, or any of her teammates and friends, but realized they weren't there.

No one was.

The entire dimension in which Ruby currently resided in was all white. Not the clean, stone slate grounds of Beacon. Not the cold, metal hull of a Bullhead. Not the dirty, crumbling tower where she had witnessed Pyrrah perish.

Just...white.

 _"Don't panic, Ruby, it's ok. You're ok."_

"Who are you?! _Where_ are you?!" Ruby shouted in fear, her body circling in an attempt to find the disembodied voice.

 _"Don't panic Ruby."_

"How can I _not_ panic? Where is everyone?! Where am I?!"

The disembodied voice gave out what seemed to be a giggle before replying.

 _"I guess you could say we're in each other's minds."_

"What? What's that supposed to even mean?!"

 _"Never mind that. I need to tell you somethi-"_

In a brief burst of maturity, Ruby laid out her terms. She would not just listen and take whatever from whomever this person is. "You are _not_ telling me anything unless we speak face to face. No ghosts! No tricks! I don't even know who you are, but this situation calls for it."

The voice appeared to sigh in melancholy before agreeing. A black outline ever so slowly appeared in front of Ruby, revealing itself to be a white cloak, billowing in nonexistent wind. Visible when the end of the cloak rose up enough ever so often, a black and red combat skirt, much like Ruby's, revealed itself.

A gust of nonexistent wind blew past Ruby, causing her to cover her eyes in irritation.

A flurry of rose petals danced along with it.

 _"I didn't think you'd recognize my voice. You were very little back then."_

Ruby's silver eyes widened in shock. "That cloak," Ruby then switched her attention to the fluid stream of petals floating along in a gentle breeze. "These petals..."

 _"I also didn't think you would've copied my fashion sense, you little copycat."_

Ruby involuntarily clutched her cape.

 _"I knew you would go for the scythe though. But I didn't think you'd turn it into a gun!"_

The wind blew just a bit more, exposing a shiny, silver, red-accented collapsed scythe. It's blade shone white, white enough to distinct it from the mysterious dimension they were in.

 _"I made mine to be collapsible too, but I didn't really know much about firearms and mechashift enough to turn it into that crazy weapon you have. I like the name though. Crescent Rose. Fits really nicely."_

The voice had now fully materialized in front of Ruby, it's white cloak still billowing in the nonexistent wind in front of her. The voice had a feminine figure, a tight corset pinching her waist and flaring out the bust. A skirt attractively emphasized her hips, further accented by the black stockings the woman wore.

Black hair, in a style much like Ruby's, could be seen poking out from the hem of the hood.

Dark red could be seen at the tips.

The voice, now indefinably a lady, turned around.

Ruby fell to her knees.

 _She looks just like in the picture, just like how Yang and Dad and Uncle Qrow always described her as._

Tears began to fall out of Ruby's eyes. First a drop, then a stream, and not long after did the pipe burst. A weighted feeling could be felt in her throat.

 _That cloak looks exactly like the one I made mine off of._

The woman softly gasped at seeing Ruby drop.

 _That scythe looks exactly like how Uncle Qrow described it as._

She stepped forward, in leaps or bounds, steps or paces, she cleared the distance, falling to her knees as well.

And she hugged Ruby.

Ruby hugged back. She cried into the woman's chest, her arms embracing around her, white cloak wrapped around a soft, delicate red one.

 _This hug feels exactly like how I remember it to be._

* * *

 **Whoo, there was a lot of delay on this one. I have no excuses, so do accept my foremost apology. Please let me know what you thought on the scene where Ruby is in her "Dreamland"! That was my first attempt at an emotional scene in this seemingly military glory story. Have no fear though, we'll see some action again pretty soon, this time letting someone other than the U.S. and Atlas grunts taking the glory.**

 **Next story(plural or no? wait 'til next time!) to be updated: _The Age of Sail_**

 **Again, sorry for delay and short chapter this time. (~4200 words including intro and end note)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello guys and gals, NicodemusV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **I'm so sorry.**

 **I do not own RWBY**

* * *

 _"On the battlefield, the military pledges to leave no soldier behind. As a nation, let it be our pledge that when they return home, we leave no veteran behind"_

 _\- Dan Lipinski_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Beacon Academy_

 _Evacuation Centre_

 _450 meters away from defensive line_

 _Time: 0311 (3:11 AM)_

Chaos.

That would be the proper word to describe it.

Chaos.

Soldiers and sailors, Atlesians and Americans alike, were being massacred by the Grimm. Dozens of them leaped out of the fog, Beowolves, Ursas of all kind, Creeps, swarms of Nevermores, it was endless.

The humans, shocked that they weren't swayed by the firepower shown before them, were caught off guard and fired their weapons wildly. Flashes of light sprang to life in the darkness, their destination unknown, their aim haphazard. The panic and fear only served to feed the Grimm, further empowering their conquest and will to devour all that is human, all that is light.

And with the defensive line broken, they advanced to the evacuation centre towards the human Bullheads and Seahawks. Right towards a group of resident hunters-in-training that held so much sway in the grand scheme of things.

 _We, without auras, under the dark sky..._

* * *

"... So you're saying that these people aren't from Remnant? How does that work?"

Ruby was right in the middle of a long conversation with her long lost mother, in all her mysterious and other-worldly charm.

"Yes, Ruby, how many times do I have to repeat it? They aren't from our world, they don't have aura, and best of all, they don't have Grimm"

"No... Grimm? That's, that's impossible! There's always Grimm!"

"That may be true on this world, but not on theirs"

Ruby just couldn't take that in. No Grimm? While she may have been young and immature, she knew the threat that the Grimm imposed. They were the bane of humanity's existence, their sworn enemy, their own demons embodied.

But having no Grimm? That opens up worlds of possibility!

They could expand borders, build new cities, find more natural resources, and maybe, just maybe...

Allow humanity to be the top dog once again, as it was before the Grimm, before the Kingdoms were established.

Before the moon had shattered.

"Ruby, c'mon, I need you to work with me. It's taking a lot to keep our little dream world together, and things aren't exactly all fine and dandy in the real world either. I need you to do something for me"

"Why, what's happening right now?"

"The defensive line has broken. Your life is in danger and so are the lives of others. Which is why I'm going to wake you up now"

"Wait, wait, will you disappear if you do that?"

"Remember what I said? I'll wait for you on the other side, those men will eventually lead you to me. And for that to happen, you need to help them right now"

The pure white realm which had them together for so long began to slowly break away, slowly revealing an inky blackness, with no shape or volume. A void.

"I missed you so much Ruby. And Tai and Yang as well. But you have power Ruby, power that can be put to good use if you make friends with the right individuals. Weiss is a good start, but I hope you don't limit yourself to her"

The realm had began breaking away at an even faster rate, pieces and shards of it floating away by an unseen wind.

Ruby's vision of her mother began getting hazy, her form becoming more and more picturesque and transparent.

"Wait, mom!" She tried to step forward, to reach out her hand and embrace her one more time.

"Mom, no, don't leave again!"

A strong gust of unseen wind knocked her down, and the next she saw of her mother, she was even more faded than before, ghost-like even.

"Mom, please, no!"

The realm had finally caught up to her feet, causing her to fall into the dark void below.

 _"Save those men, those men without aura, under the dark sky..."_

* * *

Weiss looked on in horror as the Grimm broke through the ranks of men, their claws and teeth sinking into warm, human flesh.

 _They don't have aura..._

She wanted to help, but the fact was she _couldn't._

Myrtenaster had no more Dust, she was out of aura, and she was _exhausted_.

She was pretty sure that her teammates and friends had the same sentiment.

But looking at the rest of them, she could see the fire in their eyes. A fire that burned at the sight of the strange soldiers fighting and dying for their well-being. A fire that burned in hatred of the Grimm, the sworn enemy of humanity.

A fire that burned with the will to fight.

But they knew, they knew that they couldn't. Everyone was too scared, too tired and depressed to think of going up against all those Grimm. The sight of the soldiers and sailors dying extinguished their flames.

Ruby woke with a gasp, her breaths coming out rapidly and deep.

"Ruby!" Weiss immediately went to her teammates aid, sitting her up and assisting her with her coughing fit.

"Ruby! Ruby, are you okay? Oh my goodness, I'll get you to a Bullhead as soon as possible- Hey! We need some help right now! -Don't worry Ruby, I'll help you as soon as-"

"N-no," Ruby managed to cough out a reply. "Must save them... help them"

Weiss's look was incredulous. "Help them?! Ruby, can you even see what is... going... on... oh my god"

Ruby was now fully sitting up, her face neutral, calm, composed.

But her eyes betrayed her.

Even with the black blindfold, the light in them shone through the cloth. They were so bright that Weiss and some nearby students had to shield their eyes from the immense light being emitted from Ruby.

She grabbed Crescent Rose and stood up. No one could see it, but her eyes were filled with determination, with vigour.

With light.

"Help them..."

"Ruby, wait! Stop, that's suicide!"

She ignored Weiss, pushing her away lightly, and engaged her semblance. Only this time, much _much_ faster.

" _Save those men, those men without aura, under the dark sky"_

Her mother's words rang true in her mind, and she flew off at _mach_ speeds.

Darting straight into the fray, she cleaved a Beowulf in half, preventing it from pouncing onto a human soldier. She twisted around and kicked away a charging Boarbatusk, it dying from blunt force trauma. Jumping into the air, she twisted her scythe in one broad stroke, wiping out a whole flight of Nevermores. Before she hit the ground, she deployed Crescent Rose into it's sniper form, landing headshots on multiple Beowulves and Ursas, saving several soldiers from a sure death.

 _"Save those men..."_

Landing on her feet, she swung Crescent Rose in a circle, killing multiple Grimm from sheer force of the swing. Engaging her semblance again, she sliced in half four Ursas who were in the middle of feasting on human flesh. Angered at not saving them in time, she went even _faster_ , so much so that she was just a blur. Running right in the middle of a coiling King Taijitu, she stuck Crescent Rose in the ground and lashed her foot out into the King Taijitu's flesh. The speed at which she stopped herself and the momentum from grabbing onto Crescent Rose swung her in a small, super sonic circle, her foot _carving_ into the snake's flesh, rending it's scales open and killing it from having it's guts _fly_ out.

 _"Those men without aura..."_

Engaging her semblance again, she burst _through_ the snake, it's flesh not decaying fast enough for her to have a clear path. Shrouded in a dark mist, she ran right into the fray again, slicing through a Deathstalker _right down the middle_ and going on to slash several more Ursas and Beowolves, saving several men from certain death. Digging Crescent Rose into the ground again, she swung herself across the battlefield, all the while switching Crescent Rose into it's sniper form and killing dozens of Grimm.

Stopping herself in front of a group of surviving Atlesian soldiers and American sailors, she reloaded, clicking the magazine release and popping in a new one. Racking the firing bolt, she looked back at the group of servicemen.

One of them waved at her, a certain Charlie Wickerson to be exact.

 _"Under the dark sky."_

She stepped forward and, in the blink of an eye, disappeared with a flurry of _white_ rose petals.

* * *

 _4 September 2016_

 _United States of America_

 _White House Situation Room (John F. Kennedy Conference Room)_

 _Time: 0259 (2:59 AM)_

President Ramos was not in a happy mood.

He was currently on his way to the J.F.K. Conference Room, his Chief of Staff Bethany Westingson following him close behind. Neither could look worse for wear, their faces tired and weary from being woken up so early in the morning. Ramos had received an urgent phone call from his Secretary of Defense, telling him word for word the statement from the Secretary of the Navy, who had also been told word for word the statement from the Chief Naval Officer about an entire carrier group supposedly having gone missing. And his second term was almost over too.

Sighing, he quickened his pace, Bethany adjusting to the new speed and maintaining her position behind him.

 _And the year was going so well too..._

A short time after Bin-Laden was found and subsequently killed, Ramos (and by extension Congress) had ordered U.S. forces to pull out of the Middle East, leaving a garrison big enough at each base they had there to properly defend itself and the surrounding region. Not long after that, he was able to secure the approval of Congress to enact a program that would hopefully help the Middle East in the long run and perhaps finally stabilize it.

The program was named _The Westernization and Stabilization of The Middle East_.

Needless to say, such a huge program required metric tons of money to fund, if it was going to achieve any meaningful results. The plan was, with cooperation from the local government, to keep the most disciplined yet caring soldiers in the bases, while simultaneously moving the local populous into well guarded refugee homes while construction companies were contracted from all over the world to renovate the surrounding area of the bases and educate the local populous on Western ideas of freedom, liberty, justice, and tolerance.

A fools dream, but a fool dreams nonetheless.

The initial response to being basically removed from their homes so that they could be destroyed did not appeal to the people. They responded violently, with local leaders soon rising up, calling their brethren to stand together against the American menace.

The CIA subsequently assassinated these leaders, and the United States began a propaganda operation of sorts to convince them to leave their homes and move into the prefab ones that they had set up for them near the bases. The population reluctantly agreed, but caved in upon one family discovering that there was air conditioning in every home, with dedicated places of worship, as well as functioning medical facilities.

With the people happy and out of the area of operation, the contracted construction companies began their work, with teachers and professors hosting daily classes on Western ideals while at the same time slowly getting them to change their religion's ways and accepting tolerance of others. This same event was copied wherever an American base was within 100 miles of a village or town; uplifting the people, persuading them to move, educating them on Western ideals, and rebuilding their homes.

The world laughed at Ramos's plan, and he faced criticism everywhere, at home and abroad.

But when the first red ribbon for the first renovated village was cut in 2015, they stopped laughing at took a look at what he had done.

Clean, simply paved roads and sidewalks, functioning electricity and light fixtures, working medical facilities and emergency services, a bustling village in the day and a secure, serene village in the night. But of all the achievements that had been accomplished, perhaps the one that the program advisers and heads could be proud of was...

The people that they had sought to win the hearts and minds of were fully educated and tolerative of opposing ideals. Everyone could go to school and get a job, everyone could go where they want, when they want, no one was oppressed, no one was beaten or persecuted for their beliefs, and above all little to no conflict. Of course, there were still people who believed in the old ways, who were very vocal about their beliefs, but local police as well as military personnel took care of them fairly easily.

The world, enamored by the complete turn around of this one village and it's people, threw money at the program. They hired more construction companies and educators, further advancing the completion of the program. In 2016, three more villages were completed in V. Ramos could leave the presidency with a legacy that would hopefully last for decades. Soldiers returned home, less people died, and overall more happy feelings now that there was a decreasing need to fight in the world.

Something that would change very soon with the introduction of a new world.

Going down a flight of stairs, he stopped in front of the door to the J.F.K. Conference Room. Steeling himself, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and entered.

He walked to his seat at the end of the table, his advisers and joint chiefs-of-staff remaining standing until he sat down. Starting out simple, he began.

"Now that we are all here, if someone could please give me a brief summary on what has transpired during my sleep"

Of course, he already knew what happened, but he just wanted to make sure everybody else in the room was reminded of the gravity of the situation. Listening to his Secretary of Defense speak, he let him finish before speaking again.

"Thank you, Secretary Theodore. With that fresh in our minds, what else can we gather from what has happened?"

At that, the Director of National Intelligence Jacob Blair spoke up and stood. "Well sir, we can always consider the Chinese. While they have denied having any action in the matter, they have been quiet about it, as usual. Operatives from the CIA report no military movements from them aside from the transportation of air defenses being prepared for shipping, most likely to one of their man-made islands"

"But they have no hand in this?"

"Nothing that we can use as solid evidence that they did, sir"

Sitting down, Ramos thought for a bit before asking another question.

"Can we get any satellite imagery on the area of disappearance? I want everything; satellite, weather, NOAA, I want all of it"

Shortly after, multiple images came up displaying a 200 km x 200 km image of the area that CSG 11 had disappeared in. Examining the images, a thought developed in his head.

"What were the last known weather conditions in the area? Updated ones as well"

"The communications operator last reported 60 foot high swells along with heavy rain and thunderstorms as well as lightning strikes all over the area. This was at the peak of, what I assume to be a hurricane, which occurred at 0000, or 12:00 AM. Communications were very choppy at this point as well, transmissions were "very vague", according to a communications operator at Yokosuka Naval Base"

Sixty foot high swells? Heavy rain and thunderstorms? Lightning?

Secretary of State Pamela Connors spoke up, inputting a counter argument.

"That report directly contradicts with weather stations in Japan, China, the Philippines, and numerous other countries in the area. It was predicted that it would be clear skies with some small swells here and there, not the conditions as described by that operator"

"Weather changes fast, ma'am, perhaps they were-"

"Where are the updated images?"

The two secretaries stopped speaking and sat down as updated images of the area were pulled onscreen.

"Change dimensions to 50 km x 50 km"

It zoomed in on the requested changes, displaying an up-to-date image as of 0325.

Ramos came to a somber possibility.

"It is entirely possible that they could have sunk"

Ramos let it sink in a bit, letting his advisers and chiefs-of-staff chew the information before coming up with a response.

"I apologize sir, but it's going to take a lot more than fifty foot waves to bring down a carrier. If that is true, then there's still about ten feet left between the sea and the main deck, but if Admiral Carter followed procedure, he'd have ordered all ships to batten down hatches and shift down to two-thirds ahead"

"Duly noted, Admiral Wilson, but the carrier wasn't the only ship in that group. There were destroyers, there were subs, supply ships," Ramos paused, trying to find the right word.

"There were lives on those ships. American lives. What are we going to tell the people?"

"We'll hold a press conference in the morning and release the satellite images of the area and any weather data we have. As well as a list of names of all the sailors lost on board the ships"

"And what about China?"

Pamela thought about her President's words before speaking. "For now, we have to assume they had no part in this, but we can use it as an excuse to send military forces over there to... quarantine and search the area, perhaps"

"Then hold off on those lists of names for now, Theodore. We have to confirm that the carrier group was indeed lost or sunk before naming our dead. I want a carrier group on the scene with an Air Defense Identification Zone established with a 100 km radius. Continue monitoring the area for all weather patterns and get a Search And Rescue operation going in there"

"I'll have the nearest carrier group begin sailing as soon as possible, sir"

"I can get some Marine Corps from our base in Okinawa out there too, sir, just give the command"

Pamela was getting a little nervous with all the talk of military movements. It was understandable since an entire carrier group had just been lost, but the movement of so many military assets would make foreign relations with China even worse. U.S. relations with the Chinese were already pretty strained from their island-building, but moving an entire carrier group in and establishing an ADIZ _within_ the Chinese's "9 dash line" would almost certainly pop the barrel.

"Sir, with all due respect, maybe we might be overreacting about this. Relocating so many assets to the South China Sea will absolutely destroy any progress we've made with repairing relations and cause even further military buildup within China"

"That may be true Pamela, but these are _American lives_ at stake here. We've just lost thousands of them in what appears to be some freak storm, and it being in the South China Sea doesn't help either. Maybe it was the Chinese, maybe it wasn't. But the fact of the matter is is that we've just lost thousands of lives and billions of dollars in hardware which will almost certainly raise questions with the world"

"But sir-"

"And we can't just let this go without taking action. At the very least, we must assure the American public that their government is on top of the situation and is undertaking steps to remedy it. And I don't give a damn about what the Chinese will say, we just lost an entire carrier strike group, and anything that can take that out; whether it be storm, war, or supernatural occurrence, they should be praying to whatever God they believe in that their own forces don't receive the same action. Is that understood, Secretary of State Pamela Connors?"

"Yes, sir"

Nodding at her submission, Ramos stood up to make one final statement.

"Get those ships and troops moving boys. We now have thousands of reasons to be in the South China Sea and an opportunity like this won't show up again for a long time. Prepare for the press conference in the morning and continue updating me on the situation," He nodded towards Blair.

"Dismissed"

* * *

 _4 September 2016_

 _United States of America_

 _John S. Brady Briefing Room_

 _Time: 0800 (8:00 AM)_

"... Now that we have briefed you all on the story, I understand you all have questions, so I will be handing control of the mic over to Secretary of Defense Theodore Colburn"

Almost immediately, the numerous groups of reporters from various media began spouting off questions left and right, cameras flashing and taking as many photos as their data banks could hold. Theodore began making his way up to the podium, giving a small thanks to Bethany and making his way to the podium adorned with multiple different mics belonging to different media groups such as CNN, CBS, ABC, and Fox News. Flashing a smile at the cameras, he gestured for silence before letting the chaos begin again.

"Questions, anyone?" Theodore said with some irony in his voice, already knowing the outcome.

A cacaphony of voices burst to life, but one particular question rang true to his ears. An obvious one, but one that might as well be taken out early in the inning.

"Does China have any involvement with this?"

"The Chinese have denied any involvement with this entire ordeal, however we have insufficient evidence to make proper judgement that they did or didn't have a hand in this. We have not ruled out the possibility that they were involved"

"Mister Secretary, are search teams in the area right now?"

"Yes, we have search and rescue operations currently underway in the area, yes"

"Is it true that U.S. naval vessels are being deployed to the area to set up an 'Air Defense Identification Zone?'"

"Yes"

"Does China have a response to the deployment of the carrier group to the area and the ADIZ?"

"China has been very quiet to this entire thing. They have no comment on the deployment of our assets and the declaration to set up the ADIZ. Aside from the usual deployment of military hardware to the man-made islands in the South China Sea, no further actions have been undertaken from them besides that"

"What exactly has happened to Carrier Strike Group 11?"

"We assume that they have been sunk, but our evidence remains inconclusive and insufficient"

"Mister Secretary, how many billions in dollars of hardware were lost? How will this affect the military's budget?"

"No comment"

"Mister Secretary, if China was involved with the supposed sinking of the carrier group, what would the U.S. response be?"

At this, the room went deathly quiet. Theodore looked at the man who said the question, a reporter from _Yahoo! News._

Then he chuckled to himself, a little surprised at the question and what it was implying. A few of the other reporters caught on and started snickering with him.

"Well son, I think we all know the answer to that. Next?" Another bombardment of questions.

"Mister Secretary!"

"Mister Secretary, what is the-"

"... Mister Secretary?"

"How will this affect the upcoming election?"

"Will this search be like MH-"

And on and on and on.

 _It's going to be a long day_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _5 miles off Patch Coast_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Aboard U.S.S. Enterprise_

 _Time: 0800 (8:00 AM)_

"... Thank you, I appreciate it," Weiss dismissed a U.S. enlisted sailor, who had come to inform her that they would be docking at Patch within an hour or so.

Watching the sailor tip his cover and make his way back to his post, Weiss sighed and looked back to her own team and team JNPR.

Or at least, what's left of it...

Once Ruby finished _buying time_ for the Atlas soldiers and American sailors to load into their respective transport craft, they were placed onto what the blue-camoed sailors around her called _"Enterprise"_ and were promptly assigned a bunk along with a majority of other first year Beacon students and a few second year teams. Weiss had come to realize that these sailors were definitely _not_ of Atlas origin, if their weapons, ships, and flying craft were any indicator.

She had heard that they were leaving Vale along with a detachment of Atlesian airships that held surviving Beacon students and staff; the spectators from the Amity Coliseum were shipped off to another safe spot. For now, they were mostly left alone aboard the _"Enterprise",_ content to just let the students sleep and help tend to their wounds. These people were turning out to be very hospitable.

A clang broke Weiss out of her thoughts.

"Agh, is this their sorry excuse of a door, it's basically a hole in a wall!"

Coming out of her slight annoyance of U.S. naval architecture, Yang looked up to see Weiss looking pointedly at her.

"Oh hey Weiss," Yang made her way to her bunk and sat down. "What's up?"

Yang had a smile on her face, and her attitude did a good job of hiding her pain, but Weiss knew better.

Gesturing to her arm, Weiss answered back. "How's your arm?"

"My arm?" Yang's voice grew a little sorrow. "It's... ok. I mean, the medical guys on this boat said that it's fine and I have no bones out of place, but..."

"What?"

"... Nothing. Never mind. Can, can we not talk about this right now?"

Weiss knew where the boundaries were. "Yes. Of course" A few awkward moments passed.

"So," Yang went to break the mood. "What do you think of these people? Nice enough right? And cool too, those dart things up top can really punch it when it comes to speed"

Weiss agreed. "They're nice enough, but I feel like there's a lot more to them than that. I don't recognize any of their writing nor that tapestry they fly on their ships"

"You mean the flag with the stars and the stripes?"

"Yes, that"

"Probably just their kingdom's flag, like how Vale's is two axes crossed together and Atlas's is a spear inside a circle," Yang lied back in her bunk, looking up at the grey under board of the bed above her. "But how come we've never come into contact with their kingdom before... all these ships tells me that they can at anytime they wanted..."

"Maybe they're isolationists?"

"Iso-what now?"

Weiss sighed, exasperated at her teammate's vocabulary. "Isolationists, meaning they stay away from the Kingdoms and it's people"

"Oh, I remember that word now. And no, I don't think so. If they were, then they couldn't have made all this without one of the Kingdom's help"

Sitting up, Yang dawned on a new fact. "Actually, I don't think I've seen a single crate of Dust anywhere on this boat"

"Really? It looked like those barrels I saw earlier had some Dust symbol on it"

"No, that was a black teardrop. Def' not dust"

Yang's teammate scratched her chin in curiosity. "That's interesting..." Her mind was beginning to churn, going through as many of the SDC's partners as she could remember.

Yet another clang brought Weiss out of her thoughts. Both heads turned towards the "door". It was another enlisted sailor.

"Yes, do you need anything sir?"

The young man, flustered at the beauty of the two young ladies before him coughed in surprise a bit before speaking. "Ah, yes. I just came to inform you all that the Mess Hall is now open to you "Beacon" students. The chefs have just finished the latest batch of cookies and-"

Ruby shot up like a door stopper. " _Did someone say cookies?_ "

"Yes miss, the chefs have just let out the newest batch of cookies," the sailor then said under his breath, _"if you could call them that_ _,"_ and continued normally. "and pots of soup. You're the last group I informed, so some of the other students may already be there"

Ruby stepped out and up off her bunk, hands literally clawing at the blindfold on her eyes. "Great! Thank you, we'll be right out there!"

As the man left, Ruby went to wake Blake, Nora doing the same to her team, having long since woken at the mention of "Mess Hall".

"C'mon Blake, there's food ready and ripe for the taking! That guy said so!"

Despite the hardness and general cramping conditions of the bunk, Blake relished her current sleeping arrangement, something that many a sailor wouldn't understand. "Ruby... urgh, not yet, no"

"Yes!"

"... No"

"Yes!"

"No"

"YES!"

Blake's stomach growled a mewling growl.

"Fine"

"Yes!"

Nora tried to do the same and rouse her leader, who simply refused to even turn his body and look her way. "Come on Jaune! Ren-ren is already up and there's food waiting in the cafeteria thing!

"... No Nora"

"But Jaune!" She made a dramatic pose of her spirit being lifted up. "Food lifts people's spirits! And what else but to gorge ourselves in the name of lifting our spirits?!"

"No"

Nora pleaded, her action desperate. While she may seem happy, even the ever enigmatic Nora knew how to read between the lines.

"Come on Jaune, it'll cheer you up!"

"No"

" _Pleeeeeeease?"_

Jaune had enough. Flipping himself around, his hand lashed out at Nora. "I said _NO_ Nora! What do you not _get_ about that?!"

Ren instinctively grabbed Nora and pulled her away from Jaune's hand, it striking thin air. Jaune, realizing what he did, seemed to recoil at himself and flipped himself back around.

No further words spoken.

"Come on Nora," Ren spoke up. "Let Jaune rest. He'll need it"

He began making his way to the _Enterprise's_ Mess Hall, Nora and WBY following suit. Only Ruby remained.

Even with the blindfold on, which she was unable to get off, she made her way smoothly to Jaune's bed. Looking at his back, she steeled herself in case of another lashing out.

"I'll bring you something back Jaune"

No words spoken.

Ruby turned to follow her teammates, who she hoped had not gotten far, before remembering one thing.

"Uh, Jaune..."

"..."

"Jaune"

"What Ruby"

"... I need your help untying this blindfold"

"... Come here," Turning around in his bed, his arms reached out to behind Ruby's head and untied the black piece of cloth.

Finishing his task, he silently shifted back to his original position. Ruby remained where she was, vision now unobstructed.

"I'm sorry Jaune"

Jaune waited for her footsteps to fall away.

 _. . ._

 _"I'm sorry too"_

* * *

 **Hello, followers of this story.**

 **I am terribly sorry for the lack of updates recently.**

 **I hope you understand, what with break and family coming over that I had to step away from writing for a bit.**

 **Hopefully this chapter satisfies you all.**

 **Now, I looked at a map of Vale and apparently Beacon appears to be heavily inland, a lot more than I thought, considering I hyopthesize Beacon's location to be pretty close considering the whole fiasco at the Docks.**

 **But then it reminds me that they had to take an airship to get there so...**

 **Hopefully Seahawks are just as, if not faster than airships no?** **I also looked for the island of Patch and assumed that the log cabin we see Tai reside in is located on that island. I extrapolated the amount of time it would take to get there by ship as well, so roughly five hours if _Enterprise_ and her group are 1 mile off the Valean Coast last we see her.**

 **Until next time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello guys and gals, NicodemusV here with another chapter of** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Been quite busy lately what with semester finals and all. However, that is over now (:D) and so begins a new semester.**

 **I almost wish there was a small break between semesters, having Monday off would be amazing. Three days of break, including the weekend, would be perfect.**

 **A few responses to reviews:**

 **Bohba13 - Well, that would make sense, but we don't know if they even have the capability to produce the ammunition that the** ** _Enterprise_** **uses. I have a theory on Dust, it'll show up later in the story.**

 **war90 - Thank you!**

 **Prince of Austria - You probably hear this all the time when you tell someone that your mum's dead, but I'll say it anyways; Sorry to hear that mate, I apologize if the chapter caused some old memories to surface.**

 **Phantom - I can assure you there will be some classified tech later on in the story, hold out for it!**

 **Well, enough rabble from me.**

 **I do not own RWBY.**

* * *

 _"The Illustrious-class battle-carrier is the current mainstay battle carrier of the Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet. Capable of holding 100 Atlesian Dropships, and thousands of troops, the Illustrious-class is the symbol of Atlesian military might and industry._ _After the retirement of the last Remington-class battle-carrier 65 years after The Great War, Atlas realized that the field of battle in regards to airships was changing. They needed a battle-carrier that would be able to hold it's own in the sky while being able to transport troops, support them, and control the operation. Thus the Illustrious-class was born. Designed, developed, and built by the makers of the Remington-class, Hughes-Masterson Ironworks, the Illustrious-class was made with ground support, anti-Grimm, and operational command in mind. The latest ship, the ANV Impenetrable Shield, is commanded by Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia and captained by Quinn Rojos, bringing the grand total of Illustrious-classes to four."_

* * *

 _4 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _1 mile off the coast of Patch_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Time: 0915 (9:15 AM)_

 _"All non-essential personnel, please proceed to the flight deck. All non-essential personnel, please proceed to the flight deck..."_

As the PA repeated its memorandum, Teams RWBY and JN(P)R were making their way up from the crew berths and up the stairs towards the flight deck. They were following a group of students being lead by an enlisted sailor up the labyrinthine corridors and staircases. They passed by other sailors, who immediately gave them a wide berth upon seeing the long line of Beacon students. Following them was Team CRDL, who remained the insufferable group of jackasses and bullies they were, even in the current situation.

They even went so far as to insult the men and women who moved aside for them, throwing out various slurs such as "blue-shit" and "cap boy".

Despite receiving these insults, the sailors remained straight faces and stoic, unfazed by the words and insults thrown at them. Something that did not go unnoticed by Yang.

"These guys can really take it..."

"Of course they can Yang," Weiss replied. "They're disciplined soldiers, they are above such petty words and phrases."

Oh Weiss, you wouldn't be saying that if you were on a Marine carrier instead of a Navy one.

Climbing the final set of stairs to the runway, the morning sun pierced the student's eyes, forcing some of them to cover them up in an attempt to salvage their vision. The seas of Remnant glittered brightly in the light, a painting of various greens and dark blues contrasting with the light-blue sky. In the distance, the island of Patch could be seen, followed by a small detachment of Atlesian airships hovering above it. Their large figures imposed an immense shadow on the city, frightening some of the less news-savvy citizens.

"Wait," Ruby said. "I thought the guy said we were docking? Why aren't we in port?"

When Admiral Carter ordered the ships to prepare docking, the Atlesians, who were acting as their communications to the Port of Patch, seeing as the _Enterprise's_ and her group's communications system was moot with their system, forgot to take in account the tonnage and draft of the _Enterprise_ herself. Apparently, she would be too heavy to dock in the deepest water dock they had, although the other ships would be fine.

Truly a testament to the American super-carrier.

"Apparently this ship is too heavy to dock in the deepest dock that Patch can offer," Weiss looked around the flight deck, noting the amount of what the sailors called "helicopters" idling around. "It looks like we'll be riding in those helicopters of theirs to the port.

Nora yelled with excitement. "Yes! Ren-ren, sit with me on the door's edge, we can jump off just as we land, it'd look so cool-"

"Nora, I do not think that would be advisable," Ren gestured towards Jaune, who was separated a little from the group. He had his sword sheathed and his shield on his back, his eyes staring at the helicopter's taking in students. Nora immediately went over to him, trying to give him some hope in averting his air sickness.

"Jaune," She tugged at his arm. "It's ok, we don't have to ride in them. We can try to get on one of those other ships; hold on, let me get someone-"

Stopping her from leaving, he said monotonously, "No, Nora, it's fine. I'll be... fine."

"Are you sure?"

Jaune grunted in affirmative.

 _"Hey look!"_

Turning to the source of the sound, Teams RWBY and JN(P)R looked to where every student seemed to be gazing at. Some of them even got out of the helicopters they were sitting in, ignoring the shouts of the sailors, and taking out their weapons.

"What is it? An aquatic Grimm?" Weiss gripped the handle of Myrtenaster before letting it go, remembering that she had run out of Dust.

"No, Patch doesn't normally have aquatic Grimm this close to shore. Sure, we're a few miles out, but I've never seen an aquatic Grimm in all the times me and Yang have gone swimming."

"Still," Blake popped in. "There could be some-"

And then it happened. A long, dark, thin structure could be seen permeating the blue and green of the sea. It continued to rise, at an alarming rate, until it finally breached the surface of the ocean in a glorious mist.

"What the _Dust_ is that!"

It was clearly human made, if the large conning tower was any note. It came crashing down onto the surface of the sea, splashing a large wave around it and causing generous amounts of sea foam to develop. Long, dark, and thin, there were two white circles amidships with white lines jutting out of it, probably entry ways of some kind. Towards the back, a thin fin could be seen as the steering apparatus, or at least part of it. A conning tower stood proud and tall towards the front, numerous antennae like structures also emitting from it.

A _Los Angeles-class_ _fast attack submarine_.

A flag of red, white, and blue soon flew at the top of the conning tower, signifying it's allegiance.

"Oh. It's a part of these guys group."

While Teams RWBY, JN(P)R, and the rest of the Beacon students gawked at the submarine, another one emerging near it, our resident Schnee heiress was the first to come out of her stupor and the first, but probably not the last, person to ask herself a question.

 _"Who are these people?"_

* * *

 _4 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Vale Outskirts, en route to Atlas_

 _ANV Impenetrable Shield ACV-40_

 _Time: 0915 (9:15 AM)_

The _Illustrious-class battle-carrier._ The very embodiment of air supremacy.

At least, if Remnant had a concept of air supremacy.

Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia was on his way to see General Ironwood, who was currently being held in the ships infirmary. The good General requested him for information on the foreign soldiers who had helped in evacuation procedures on Beacon and the city of Vale, after being picked up by one of their strange craft and being brought to the drop-off site in a secure area away from the hot-zone.

In his hand was his own Atlas issued Scroll. On the Scroll was a copy of the video gained from observing the foreign, blue-camoed soldiers make landfall in Vale, engage a group of rogue Atlesian hardware, and subsequently destroy it with support from another one of their strange craft. He also had video feed from one of his soldier's helmet cams, further displaying their combat capabilities on the ground and against Grimm.

 _They rely heavily on those..._ _aircraft of theirs..._

Placing the Scroll in his right pocket, Herman quickened his pace down to the infirmary. His presence had been requested 20 minutes ago, and walking down the stairs to the medical bay of the roughly 3 kilometer ship was a bit tiring, although he kept his appearance in front of his men. Briskly walking down the halls of the ship's immaculate, white hallways and going down it's numerous, ornate elevators, he finally reached the infirmary, located amidships towards the bottom of the carrier.

Catching his breath for a second, he combed back his white hair and fixed his uniform, combing his mustache and tensing his face. His dark brown eyes looking straight ahead, his face neutral, his breathing calm and ordered. He knocked once, twice, three times on the door.

 _"Come in."_

Herman's breath hitched a little. That was a feminine sounding voice. General Ironwood did not mention having anyone else in the room in his communiqué.

Ignoring his thoughts, he opened the door and closed it gently behind him. The good General was in his bed, sitting up and making direct eye contact with him. A woman stood to the side of his bed, also making eye contact with him. It was Specialist Schnee.

Giving a crisp salute to the General, who returned it with care, he dropped his arm and presented the requested topic.

"I have the information that you requested, General Ironwood," digging into his right pocket, he took out the Scroll and raised it in front of him.

"Drop the formalities, Herman, we are equals in this room. Specialist, if you will."

Nodding to the General's command, she went and took the Scroll from Herman's outstretched hand, which promptly fell to his side. His Scroll was hooked up to a projector, facing a blank wall. Winter turned it on, and went to find the video from Herman's Scroll. She frowned.

"There's a passcode."

Without hesitation, Herman told her. "349011."

Typing in the code, Winter found the numerous video files as well as a small list of capabilities of the foreigners forces.

"Begin," commanded Ironwood.

Playing the video, Winter stepped back, but kept her finger on the Scroll. Herman began his makeshift report.

"As you can see here, the foreign troops landed in Vale on their form of transportation. Upon landing, the craft immediately flew away, probably back to the group of ships that I had mentioned to you out at sea. They encountered, engaged, and eventually destroyed a group of rogue 130s, 200s, and a single 290."

"How was the effectiveness of their weaponry against the Knights?"

The video paused at the point where the soldiers engaged the Knights.

"Against the 130s, their rifles were able to severely damage the joints and destroy critical computational systems. Against the 200s, their armor did well against their shots for the first few bullets, although they suffered the same fate as the 130s. It's unclear whether or not they all wielded the same weapon, I observed varying rates of fire from them."

"And against the Paladin?"

The video fast forwarded to the fight against the Paladin.

"Their, what I assume to be, small arms were largely ineffective against the Paladin's armor, although they appeared to be able to damage critical systems such as the laser sights and were able to expose hydraulic lines. Ultimately, they destroyed the Paladin through some sort of high explosive charge deployed from one of their craft."

Not needing to be told what to say next, Herman continued as the video paused on the part where the F/A-18 Super Hornet made an attack run on the Paladin. "This aircraft of theirs is very fast, I would guess it's speed to be above Char 1 at the very least. Overall air frame is very thin, almost as if it was made for speed. Large wings, good control surfaces, probably for advanced maneuvers. There also appears to be weapon hardpoints on the underside of the wings, so it is clearly made for war. I counted six rockets in total, with what appears to be two bombs underneath the main fuselage. Made for war."

General Ironwood stared at the Super Hornet, confirming what Henry said with his own eyes. He breathed for a second before going onto the next question.

"What about the transport craft they used?"

"Ah, almost forgot. Specialist, if you will," Henry gestured to Winter, who promptly scrolled on the Scroll to the correct scene.

"Very much like that fast aircraft of theirs, their transport is very thin. Definitely much slower, although it does appear to be faster than the average Bullhead and maybe Dropship. Thin body, I observed five come out of it although the cockpit seems like it has two as crew. So seven occupants total. Propulsion seems to be some advanced form of gyro copter, something that we deemed to be largely inefficient. Photo enhancement revealed one armament, a mini-gun of sorts. Port mounted."

"And these people have docked at Patch at around this time right now?"

"Yes, although there were complications with the docking of what I assume is their capital ship. Or ships, assuming they have more than one of those... flattops."

"What complications?"

"Their capital ship is apparently too heavy to dock even in Patch's deepest dock available. They switched to anchoring out at sea and dropping off refugees by that gyrocopter of theirs."

"I see," General Ironwood placed himself upright even further and told Winter to return Herman's Scroll. "I will come make a personal meeting with their leader as soon as I am able to. One day, tops."

"Of course James, I'll arrange for one of the ships to bring you as soon as possible. It'll be on standby."

"Thank you, Herman."

Returning the crisp salute that Ironwood gave him, he nodded before retrieving his Scroll from Winter and exiting the room. Once outside, Herman let out a sigh of relief before making his way to the nearest lift.

* * *

 _5 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch coastline, within beach viewing distance_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet Detachment_

 _ANV Iridescent DD-121_

 _Time: 1300 (1:00 PM)_

Even if there was no dock for the Enterprise to dock at, she and her crew would still continue the time honored tradition of manning the rails. Her crew complement was all dressed up in their navy whites, standing at attention facing outwards from the carrier's flight deck. As they sailed along the coastline of Patch's most populated town, dozens of people came to watch the sailors go by; some waved, hoping to illicit a response from the sailors. Others simply watched, eyes filled with curiosity and skepticism.

Manning the rails is a tradition going all the way back to the age of sail. It was a method of saluting or render honors to foreign vessels or when docking in foreign ports, as a way to show peace and goodwill.

"Now there's a practice I haven't seen in a very long time."

"Indeed, Herman. Something very out of place in this day and age."

Ordering someone to shut off the feed, the two men nodded to Captain Rachel before exiting the bridge, making their way to the hangar bay of the 900 m airship.

After a bit of walking, Herman decided to pop the question.

"James," Herman began, "When we meet with this Admiral Carter and Captain Callaghan, what exactly will we discuss with them?"

Entering a lift that would take them down to the hangar bay, Ironwood sighed before responding.

"It is quite clear to me now that we are dealing with a new Kingdom's military forces," James paused as he pressed the button for the lowest level of the ship. "Their weapons, their troops, their ships are unlike anything I've ever seen. They seem utilitarian in nature and exist for function over form."

Watching the counter go down, there was a small amount of silence in the elevator.

"It seems they use an entirely different method of communication than us; they are separate of the CCT and have to use one of our own lines to relay their messages. While their speech is understandable, their system of letters is foreign to me."

"Well what do you expect James, if these people are really a new Kingdom then of course they'd be separate of the CCT."

"But what confuses me Herman, is how these people were able to construct these vessels, these aircraft, _without_ being found by one of the Four Kingdoms. Such technology should've been discovered one way or another in the past century, whether by a stray Hunter or by the expeditionary groups we send out in the Grimmlands so often."

The lift doors opened to reveal an Atlesian soldier, who immediately saluted the two higher ranking officers before saying that he'd take the next one.

"What confuses me even more is how our ships weren't able to detect their presence in the sea until that storm subsided, and even then readings were sketchy."

"Those were gale force winds, James, you can't expect clear outputs from interference like that."

The lift doors opened again to reveal the _Iridescent's_ busy and populous hangar. Set aside were three Atlesian Dropships, their nose-mounted gun barrels glistening in the light of the open bay doors. A complement of Atlesian soldiers waited patiently for the two officers, not a single Knight in sight.

"We've dealt with conditions like that before Herman, Atlas has them all the time. Never before did our sensors perform so erratically in the area than when this new Kingdoms ships appeared. Which leads me to another question; why were their ships even there in the first place?"

Walking to the waiting Dropships, hangar staff and personnel gave them a wide berth, carving a defined path in the sea of bodies in the hangar bay.

"These are questions that we'll just have to ask the Americans, James." Stepping into the Dropship, the pilot closed the rear doors and lifted off the pad, dust engines working hard to counteract Remnant's gravity. Herman walked into the cockpit and put his hands on the seat head of the pilot's chair.

"How long until we land at their cap-ship, son?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sir. Their ship's still settling down in one place. They're launching their things though, sirs."

"Maintain formation. Radio to the _Iridescent_ ; tell them to tell the Americans that the three in bounds are friendly, three in bounds are friendly."

"Yes, sir. _Iridescent 121, Iridescent 121, relay message to Americans..._ "

As the pilot copied Herman's message, the Dropship's cabin remained silent. Herman and Ironwood would have discussed about the Americans further, but there were prying eyes and attentive ears inside with them, preventing any meaningful conversation besides off hand comments. A few minutes into the flight, Herman could feel the Dropship rapidly descending. Looking through the large, framed windshield of the Dropship, he could see the American's capital ship floating on the waves. Their other ships were docked in Patch's port, including two long, thin, and black vessels. It reminded him of a Grimm.

Just seven minutes away from arrival and suddenly there was massive turbulence. Looking back towards the large, glass windshield of the Dropship, both Herman and Ironwood could see the strange craft that strayed from common aerial designs of Remnant. Now that the two men were closer, they along with every other soldier in the flight could see just _what_ it was these people were flying.

Two thin engines in the back, close together and pouring out thousands of pounds of thrust per second. Thin, delta shaped wings, something not commonly seen in most Remnant aircraft. A bulbous, glass canopy, in which a single person sat: the pilot. Yet of all the features that everyone could observe, the most prominent of them would be what was being carried underneath the thin wings and body.

"This thing's fucking _loaded!"_

Ironwood shot a glare to the soldier who said that, but said serviceman didn't seem to care. He was too enraptured by the craft to think of disciplinary actions.

Sleek, white, finned missiles hung underneath the wings. A large, oval shaped bomb could also be found. There were even two smaller missiles on the wingtips of the craft, bringing the total missile count to eight and bomb count to three.

Ironwood agreed with the soldier. This thing was indeed _fucking loaded_.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch coastline_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet Detachment_

 _Time: 1323 (1:23 PM)_

Admiral Carter watched as the large, predatory like Atlesian Dropships landed on the deck of the _Enterprise_. Landing side by side, they took up almost 1/3 of the entire runway, something that neither him nor Captain Callaghan had predicted.

"They sure do like them _big_ , huh?"

Callaghan gave a look towards the Admiral before chuckling to himself.

"Yeah."

Two of the Dropships had landed facing towards the carrier's island while one in the center landed facing towards the sea. The ramp door opened, revealing two immaculate, uniformed men guarded closely by a group of Atlesian soldiers. As they walked, the two other dropship's ramp doors also opened, two squads of Atlesian soldiers also walking out.

Upon seeing the sizable force, the marines acting as security for the Admiral and Captain put their M4A1s into a low-ready state. The entire deck was mostly devoid of personnel save for a few members of the rainbow crew servicing all the aircraft off to the sides and elevators.

The two squads of Atlesian troops stood ready at the ramps of their respective crafts, guns drawn. Only Ironwood's and Herman's contingent moved. Standing in front of Admiral Carter, Ironwood was taller by a few inches, standing over Carter's 5"10 and Callaghan's 5"11. Herman stood at the same height as Carter.

Extending his hand, Ironwood greeted who he guessed to be the Admiral, judging by his uniform. "You are Admiral Carter, I presume?"

Taking his hand, Carter gave a firm, practiced handshake, something he had grown used to over the years as an Admiral. "Yes, Admiral Carter of the United States Navy."

Looking towards Callaghan, he extended his hand in greeting to him too. "And you must be Captain Callaghan?"

Mirroring Carter's actions, Callaghan replied, "Yes, Captain Callaghan of the United States Navy."

Stepping back, Ironwood let Herman introduce himself. "I am Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia. This man right here is General James Ironwood. Very pleased to meet you," Herman shook the hands of both men, if a tad too loosely.

Smiling, Callaghan invited the two Atlesian officers to a prepared conference room in the ship. Turning around, he dismissed the marines and led the men inside, where another group of marines waited. Ironwood reluctantly had to leave the Atlesian troops behind, as Carter stated that it would be too crowded inside the ship for everyone to be moving. Stepping over the bulkhead doors, they passed by numerous other sailors, who immediately gave way to the men and saluted them when they passed. No one spoke a word, although Herman had many thoughts circulating in his mind.

 _They run a tight ship here... Both figuratively and literally._

Eventually, they reached a room large enough to fit at least five people. There was a desk with a computer, two chairs in front of said desk, a coffee machine in the corner, and a shelf with some books in it.

"Please gentleman, take a seat. Private, if you will." As the marine private stepped outside to act as guard, Herman and Ironwood took their seats in front of the desk where Admiral Carter was sitting. Callaghan preferred to stand next to the desk.

"Now, where should we start? We introduced ourselves, but we have yet to know your full names and affiliations."

"I am General James Ironwood, of the Atlas military."

"I am Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia, of the Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet."

Recording their names onto a text document on Notepad in the computer, and with introductions out of the way, Carter moved onto the next order of business.

"Ok. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, as do we, but ours can come later. What about you two? Ask anything."

Ironwood went straight to the point. "Where did you all come from?"

"The United States of America."

"Where is the United States of America?"

"On the North American continent, at least the mainland is."

"Where is this North American continent?"

"It is," Carter stopped, realizing that it would be difficult to accurately describe where a continent is. Instead, he opened the desk drawers, hoping there would be a world map of some kind. His hopes were true.

"Here," laying down the map, Carter pointed out the location. "This entire landmass here, that is the North American continent."

Ironwood sat silent for a bit, looking at the map and noting that it was completely wrong.

"Is this a joke, Admiral?"

Carter looked pointedly at the man. "What do you mean, "joke"? This is a map of the world, is it not?"

"I do not recognize this map, Admiral. I will note that while some of it's features look familiar, such as that ice cap called the "Arctic Circle", I do not recognize the rest."

"I don't know what else to tell you, General. This is a map of our world."

Pulling out his Scroll and bringing up a map of Remnant, Ironwood held it out for the amazed Americans to see.

"A hologram..."

"This is called a Scroll. The image you see there is a map of our world, a map of Remnant."

"A map of Remnant? Now this is just off, this... is... the map..."

Carter trailed off, coming to a realization. So did Ironwood, Herman, and Callaghan.

"We're not on Earth." Carter and Callaghan uttered out simultaneously.

"I believe that to be true, Admiral."

"It actually makes much more sense now," Callaghan came out of his stupor relatively quickly, Carter following soon after. "The giant flying ships, the giant VTOLs, those giant birds. Everything I've seen does not exist on Earth, not in any shape or form."

A few moments of silence passed, a fact dawning on the two American high ranks.

"How will you proceed? Actually, I believe it better if you first explain how you had even arrived here in the first place."

"Henry, you do it."

"Right," Henry Callaghan cleared his throat before giving a very short summary of the events leading up to their arrival. "Our group was performing a freedom of navigation operation, a FONOP, in the South China Sea." He pointed out where that was, a place east of the continent Asia. "We got into some rough weather, communications was choppy with base, there was a loud crack, and then we ended up just outside of what is called," Callaghan moved closer to the Scroll to read the map. "Of what is called Vale."

"Hmm, I see. Now, how will you proceed?"

"I hope you can understand," began Carter, "that from a military man to another military man, that we're in some deep crap right now."

Both Herman and Ironwood silently agreed to this. They've both been in some bad situations, but not one such as this. Hopefully they never will be.

"I don't know yet. I honestly don't know. This ship," he patted the wall of the _Enterprise_ , "she can basically go on forever. So can the subs. But the destroyers and cruisers and support ships can't. We'll probably run out of ammunition if we have to keep fighting those big black things."

"I see, docking here at Patch was not only to drop refugees, but also to dock for resupply."

"Right. But from what I got before meeting with you two is that there isn't a drop of usable fuel here. Not even crude oil."

"That is because everything runs on Dust, Admiral," Herman explained. "Dust runs Remnant."

"Dust, eh? I'll chalk that up to something indigenous to this world," Carter sighed, "We're alright for now, but we can't keep sailing forever, especially if those things are underwater too.

"They are."

"Well fuck me," Carter put his hands over his eyes, trying to relieve some of the stress from them. "General, Fleet Admiral, I know I'm probably asking a lot by asking this, but at this point we need some help badly. Do you think that you could put in a word to one of the "Kingdoms" around here and grant us asylum or whatever the custom is here?"

The two Atlesian men were silent. On one hand, having a force like theirs could drastically help in the fight against the Grimm and their enemies. On another, they were also a force to be reckoned with. The group probably had enough munitions to level a good size of Vale. But on the underside of that hand, they were limited in their combat endurance. At best, _Enterprise_ and her group could last two to three years with no combat. With combat, she'd last a year.

Hopefully it'd be enough time to find a way home.

"I'll think about it. I understand the predicament you're in, but convincing the Council will be hard. You are, after all, not from here."

"Politics, huh? Even on another world, politics can get in the way."

Herman and Ironwood chuckled. Military men were all the same, different world or not.

"I'd like to discuss further about your fleet and it's problems, so I will be staying for a little to act as a liaison between your forces and the Council. Or Councils, if one of the other Kingdoms catches wind."

"That would be great, General."

"Your men's contributions in the battle are appreciated. They fought valiantly for people with no Aura."

"Aura? There's a lot to this world, isn't it?"

"Yes indeed, Captain. There is much to learn," standing up, General Ironwood reached out and shook the hand of Carter and Callaghan, Herman copying the action.

"You may be contacted by the Valean Council soon. I suspect that they won't mind letting you dock at Patch due to your efforts in the battle, but they might ask you to dock at another port more appropriate for your ships."

"I see, I'll be ready when they come."

"I will send a message to the Council later. For now, we will return to our detachment group. Let your men rest."

"Thank you, General. You can meet with us again, just call in advance. Your aircraft take up quite a lot of space."

The two men looked at each other, and almost simultaneously, they snapped a perfect salute. Ironwood's salute was identical to Carter's, both of their right arms were at a forty-five degree angle towards their right temple.

"Next time, General."

"Next time, Admiral."

Ironwood and Herman stepped out of the office, escorted up to the flight deck by marines. Immediately, Ironwood's contingent surrounded him and walked in unison towards the Dropship. The other two squads followed suits, their crafts lifting off first before Ironwood's. Turning, they jetted towards their airships, contrail invisible from the Dust engine.

"He seemed a decent leader, don't you think James?"

"His salute was a carbon copy of our own, Henry, he is most definitely a decent man."

Meanwhile, Admiral Carter was thinking the very same thing. Callaghan dismissed himself from the office, leaving to go up to the bridge, allowing Carter to think alone.

 _How does he recognize the Arctic Circle?_

* * *

 **Hey guys, been a while since the last update. Hope you all are enjoying the story and I apologize if you find some discrepancies regarding military things.**

 **Estimated due date for next chapter is February 8th.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone, NicV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World._**

 **Trying to push out a new chapter more often, so let's see how it works out. There are some time-skips on the horizons, but not too long. Just a month or so.**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **war90 - Yup. The bane of most military men's existence: politics. I'll admit, I'm not very knowledgeable on the in-depth workings of the military, more it's equipment than anything else, so Fleet Intel officers are new to me.**

 **OBSERVER01 - Heh, yea. Especially with that upcoming election in-story.**

 **Basketcaseme - Well, it depends on how the story will go. It's not a yes or no, but more of a wait and see.**

 **I do not own RWBY**

* * *

 _"The Schnee Dust Company. The SDC. The Snowflake Corporation. Perhaps the most influential and powerful company in all of Remnant, the SDC has it's hands in just about everything. Politics, arms manufacturing, arms dealing, Dust production, Dust distribution; these are just some of the avenues which the SDC has heavy control and power in. And it's all the handiwork of Jacques Schnee. The scion of the Schnee family, he can be considered the single most powerful man in the business world of Remnant. His family is no different. Winter Schnee holds a very prominent position in the Atlas military, Weiss Schnee is a highly skilled and esteemed Huntress-in-training, and Whitley Schnee is just as cunning and business savvy as his father. A powerful group of individuals, they can decide whether the world lives or dies with just one signature"_

* * *

 _6 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Xiao Long Household_

 _Time: 0730 (7:30 AM)_

"... Again, thank you for having us here, Mr. Xiao Long, we really appreciate it."

"Oh no, it's fine. Really. House's been feeling so empty with Ruby and Yang gone for school so it's great to have the company."

Weiss was currently sitting down at the dinner table having breakfast with team JN(P)R and RW(B)Y, Ren giving the pancakes he made to Nora and Ruby inhaling cookies and chugging milk at an alarming rate. Only Weiss, Jaune, Ren, and surprisingly enough Yang remained well behaved enough at the table for their to be even a semblance of a nice, relaxing breakfast. A far cry from the rush and hastiness that came with mornings at Beacon.

In order to make a good impression on her host, Weiss had been the first to wake up from her spot on the couch, ignoring her still aching muscles and heavy eyes to see that everyone else was still asleep. Going into the bathroom, she freshened up as best as she could; making do with the shampoo and body wash that was inside and wiping as much dirt off her clothes as possible.

It was only when she stepped outside the bathroom and opened her eyes completely to notice that Blake was missing.

Immediately turning off the bathroom light and gathering herself, she went to the door and saw that her shoes were gone and so were her SMGs from the weapon rack. Opening the door to the outside as quietly as possible, she went around the house and even a little bit into the woods to look for Blake, hoping to catch her collecting firewood or even reading her smut behind a tree. Her hopes were false.

Not wanting to wake everyone up from their sleep, she began preparing to cook what little she knew about dishes in general. As the eggs cooked and bacon fried, Ren had silently joined her in the kitchen, his posture and look on his face indicating he was still half asleep.

"Must make pancakes... or morning ruined."

She silently nodded to him, giving Ren some elbow space to pour pancake batter that he had somehow produced out of nowhere.

And so as the eggs, bacon, and pancakes begin to stack on the plate, so did the sleeping occupants of the house begin to stir.

Mr. Xiao Long came into the kitchen soon after the thirty-fourth pancake was finished, and he insisted on taking over Weiss's self-imposed task of making breakfast for everyone. Something that Weiss had appreciated, as she was starting to overcook eggs and burn bacon from having to keep track of so many different pans. She opted to sitting on the dinner table waiting for breakfast to be served, the inside of the house quiet as her friends slowly rose one by one. Soon enough, everyone was at the table taking in their fill of breakfast, taking it by the plateful as some people seemed to indicate.

"Let's see what's on the TV today, huh?" Taking the remote and switching on the television, it opened up to the Vale News Network, VNN.

 _"... The operation to retake Vale is still raging. Atlesian ships returned last night with reinforcements from Atlas; this time with_ human _soldiers and refurbished Paladins with a_ human _operator. General Ironwood still has no comment on the actions of the Atlesian Knights during the attack on Vale, but it is clear that technicians and officials are hard at work trying to find the cause of the "malfunction," as the official statement goes."_

Tai was watching intently at the screen, wanting to know more about what happened in the mainland, as did many other people of Remnant. He spared a glance towards the group of kids, a little concerned for their mental state of mind, especially for his fellow blonde brawler.

 _"Atlesian forces have made headway into retaking Vale, mostly with the establishment of a small base at the docks. Though, by the looks of reports coming in from there, fighting is heavy and troops are meeting extreme resistance from both the Grimm and the rogue Knights. We have here a trooper from that base on the docks, a Sergeant Rodrigio Limé."_

The camera panned towards the Sergeant, who had scorch marks and other battle appendages of varying sizes over his armor. His helmet was off, revealing his black, wild hair and green, diluted eyes. It was clear that he had just come out of a very intense firefight against the enemy, a miracle that he had the strength to even attend the interview.

 _"Sergeant Limé, what can you tell us about combat on the front?_ "

The Atlas trooper was quiet a bit, trying to form some coherent thoughts on his recent action.

 _"It's, uh, it's very... chaotic, I suppose. It's hard to fight against the Grimm, even with Hunter support. They just never stop coming, honestly. You've got men shouting and Hunters doing their thing, us trying to not hit them. Hard to do our jobs with them in the way like that. Even harder for the Dropships making their strafing runs too._ _"_

 _"Could this be considered your opinion on the Hunter program at large, Sergeant?"_

The soldier seemed flabbergasted at the question, but he took it into thought as well.

 _"I, uh, well... no, of course not. These Hunters are amazing, they do their jobs very well, don't get me wrong. Just that their way of fighting the Grimm gets in the way of our fighting the Grimm; it's like mixing water and oil, they just don't go very well together."_

 _"What would you like done about this? How do you think we should retake Vale and bring the fight to the enemy?"_

 _"Well, I remember fighting alongside some very interesting people back up at Beacon, when we were evacuating the students. They had some pretty cool tech, really cool things that I don't think even Atlas has yet. It'd be great to have those guys here with us, they'd be a big help in taking back Vale."_

 _"Do you have anything else to say Sergeant Limé?"_

 _"Uhh, yeah, yeah. I just want to say, uhh, I'm happy to be alive and, uhh, I hope I can see my mom again. Oh! If any of you blue-shirted guys are watching this, please come down and help! You guys did a lot, and I really appreciate the help you guys gave. I can say the same for my squad mates too, they'd like you lot back here as well!"_

 _"Thank you, Sergeant Limé. Well that brings us to the next little story of our segment: the appearance of the blue camoflauged soldiers. Hanson, back to you."_

 _"Thanks Lisa. As introduced by Miss Lavender, the appearance of these blue camouflaged soldiers has everyone, especially the Councils in an uproar. No more than a few moments ago did the Valean Council release a statement from a press conference earlier this morning regarding these blue soldiers."_

A clip of the conference played, showing Counselor Thierry Marouné speaking at a makeshift podium.

 _"We assure you, the people, that the recovery of Vale is well on it's way. We are coordinating with Atlas and progress is being made. And in regards to the blue camouflaged soldiers that appeared and assisted in the evacuation of Vale, we would first like to thank you for your efforts. While being docked at Patch Island is fine for the time being, the Council and I would like to meet with your people officially in the upper class district. Thank you."_

 _"Counselor, one more question!"_

 _"Miss Azure, a moment of your time!"_

 _"Counselor, what about-"_

The screen switched back to Hanson.

 _"While the Vale Council may have taken these people's appearance safely, there is much contrast in the Atlas Council. General Ironwood still has no comment on the subject, and neither do any other prominent leaders within the military. The only comment we have received from Atlas comes from Counselor Voil, whom gave a very brusque response. I quote,"_ Hanson cleared his throat.

 _"These blue-camouflaged soldiers efforts are appreciated, both from Vale citizens and Atlesian servicemen. However, we must not forget that their incursion onto Vale territory was unsanctioned and not permitted. Their ships reside in Vale waters undocumented and unregistered; it is clear that the Vale Council has pandered to these people and allowed their occupation of Patch. Now that they have chosen to reveal themselves, we must further strengthen our resolve and our unity, for it is clear that our world still has many mysteries to solve."_

The morning segment then went from those breaking news events to the generic weather forecasts and economic reports. Tai tried to watch, but he had no stake in the stock markets and could care less about averse weather. Rain or shine, it was all the same to him.

"Okayyyy, this is getting a little boring," he switched off the television and looked towards the group of kids, who had finished their breakfasts and were watching the news along with him until he turned the TV off.

"Alright guys. I understand you're all a little tired from yesterday's happenings and all, but today's a whole new day! Plus, for some of you, it's a new place to explore! Ruby, Yang, why don't you give your friends the grand tour of Patch, huh? Huh?"

Ruby popped out of her seat, engaging her semblance a little and changing clothes in record time. "Got it! C'mon Yang!"

"I don't know Ruby, I'm still a little tired from yesterday," Yang weaseled her way out of going, trying to gain a little more quiet to herself at the house.

"Well," Ruby looked around her friend group. "Does anyone actually want to go?"

"I can!" Nora spoke with her mouth full, still eating her fifty-seventh pancake.

"I am interested in exploring Patch a little. Nora and I require just a bit of time to freshen ourselves."

"Weiss?"

"I can go. I need to buy new clothes anyways."

"What about you Jaune?"

Jaune, who had barely touched his breakfast, something that mirrored Yang's plate, looked at Ruby a little before shifting his sight over to Yang. In his mind, he asked her a question he knew she wouldn't hear.

He got a nod in return. How did she hear?

Sighing, Jaune grunted in positive.

Ruby shook her fist in the air. "Alright! Best day every number _two!_ We can go now-" Ruby silenced herself there, remembering something very important.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing Weiss, I just remembered something, uh, somewhere I have to go for a bit. Just wait for me at the trail to the town, ok guys?"

"Very well then. Fifteen minutes, tops. Don't be late." Even as Weiss said that assuredly, Jaune watched Ruby, trying to get a read on her body language and why she deflated so abnormally quickly.

"Right. Fifteen minutes, tops. It'll only take ten, I swear!"

"It's fine. Just go, we'll be waiting for you at the trail head."

Ruby jogged to the front door, grabbing Crescent Rose from her spot on the weapon rack and latching it to the small of her back. Giving a small wave, she opened the door and exited with a small thud.

Jaune went into the bathroom and came out looking fresher than before. He sat on the couch for a bit before looking towards the door that Ruby exited. He looked at Yang, who was still sat at the dinner table, and watched as she raised one shaky glass of milk in her left hand to her mouth. She ended up spilling some on her undershirt, causing her to slam the glass on the table with a frustrated sound coming from her chest.

Taiyang either didn't hear over the rushing water or was simply being patient.

Feeling eyes on her back, Yang turned her gaze towards Jaune. Their eyes met. In another silent exchange of words, Jaune was up out of his seat and out the door.

Crocea Mors held firmly on his back.

* * *

Ruby had long since arrived at her mother's memorial stone. And for the entire time she was there, she hadn't spoken a single word. She just didn't know what to say.

Well, she knew what she _wanted_ to say, but she didn't know _how_ she should do it, now that her mother basically told her she's alive. Was there still a point in talking to her memorial?

Out of frustration, Ruby shouted out loud indirectly at her mom's memorial.

"I just don't get it!"

Oops.

 _I just yelled at my mom's own memorial._

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "This is just hard to do, for some reason."

A leaf of the autumn blew past.

"There are just so many things going on. I...I want to follow what you said to me... but I don't know how to do it."

Fallen leaves crunched under the weight of the world.

"I don't even know where to start! Those people are so weird- in a good way -but they just seem so hard to approach. I know they're military and military are supposed to be hard to approach I guess, but they're different from Atlas."

 _"..."_

"...I wonder if things I say hear are like a little voice in your head wherever you are. That'd be funny."

A pale hand gripped a nearby tree trunk, it's blue eyes watching a lone figure.

"Maybe I should try talking to you when I go to sleep. Would that work? You did come to me in a dream after all... Vision? Apparition? I don't know what to call it."

 _"..."_

"It was great seeing you mom, even if it was in a dream thingy. I just... I just hope it won't be the last time we see each other.

 _She's talking to her mom's memorial?_

Ruby's eyes lit up with resolve, with willpower.

"I _will_ get through to those people. One way or another. Weiss is pretty rich, maybe she can put in a word for me? Let's see..."

Two steps forward.

"Now that I think about it, I don't really know a lot about Blake. Of course, she's White Fang- she left! SHE TURNED A NEW LEAF, I SWEAR! -but other than that, we know next to nothing about her family. Does she even have family? Maybe the Fang was her family..."

Three steps more.

"You said Weiss was a good start. I know Pyrrah is also- oh yeah... I forgot to tell you."

 _"..."_

"Jaune's taking it the hardest. He's really been down lately. I've been trying to cheer him up but he just seems so depressed."

Two steps forward.

"We're going to town today. Yang's staying home. She also had a... bad experience. I'm sure dad will bring her out of it. Just like before..."

Three steps more.

"I'm going to tour them around Patch, take them to everywhere we've been for the last fifteen years! The mall, the market, the theater, Signal Academy, the works!"

Four paces extra.

"Oh no! I forgot, I was supposed to meet them at the trail head! I'll talk more when I come back, I'm probably super late, like ridiculously late. Love you, bye!"

Ruby turned around and was about to engage her semblance when she noticed Jaune standing not too far off in front of her. She stood stock still, a pink shade of embarrassment coming up on her cheeks.

 _Oh fuck, this was supposed to be private._

"Uhh," Jaune began. "I can explain-"

"How long were you standing there."

"Since... after you accidentally yelled at your mom's memorial."

Ruby collapsed into a pile of red. A pile of red hot embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said through tears. "You weren't supposed to see that."

Jaune walked forward. "I figured as much."

He crouched down to Ruby's level, pulling off her hood before falling back on his end.

"... It's fine to talk to your mom's memorial. It's normal."

The pile remained unmoving.

"... I talk a lot to Pyrrah's tiara too you know."

A shuffle.

"I talk to it just like you talk to this memorial stone."

Ruby lifted her head from in between her knees and wiped away tears.

"That's kinda creepy."

The hood was shoved back down.

"Ow!~ Hey, what was that for?!"

Jaune stood up, brushing dirt and loose grass of his jeans.

"How did you even find me here?"

"I followed you."

"Ok, now _that's_ creepy."

"I followed the trail."

Jaune looked towards the memorial stone of Ruby's mom. He imagined one with Pyrrah's name engraved on it.

"You never told me your mom's name."

Ruby, who was still on the ground, paused. Almost hesitantly, she told him her name.

"Summer. Summer..."

He looked towards Ruby.

"What?" She looked away from his gaze, wrapping her cloak around herself.

"She probably looks like you."

"How did you know!"

"I looked at one of the pictures in your house. I saw an older looking you."

"... Yeah. That's her."

Jaune extended his hand, taking Ruby's smaller one in it. "Let's go. I think the other's are already waiting," he forcibly pulled her up from the ground, bringing her to a stand near him.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The two walked through the forest, Ruby leading Jaune to the trail head using a shortcut she knew.

Summer's memorial watched the two go off, the stone's silhouette clear in the sunset.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Port Town_

 _Time: 0800 (8:00 AM)_

While Patch may be an island away from the Vale mainland, it was just as bustling and busy as Vale proper is- or _was,_ considering all that had happened. Cars drove up and down the cobblestone paved streets, people walked along the sidewalks, shopkeepers openly advertised their wares, Hunters and Hunters in-training roaming everywhere- mainly showing off their weapons and walking with swagger -and many, many Bullheads and Atlesian Dropships making trips to and from three looming airships.

Ruby stood at the end of the trail head, just at the top of the hill leading into the mouth of the city gates.

"It's a lot more... crowded than I remember."

"This is most likely due to the events that have occurred in Vale. It would not be unreasonable to think that the majority of these people are refugees or students from other Kingdoms."

Nora raised her warhammer/grenade launcher. "Who cares? We can just clear a path through the bodies!"

"Uhh, Nora that lets on more than what is said-"

"Nora's right!" Ruby agreed cheerfully. "I know this place better than them, I was born here! Now, let's go!"

Inside the city, the amount of people walking was suffocating. It was as if all the collective volume of air around the streets was being breathed in and out in unison; RW(B)(Y) and JN(P)R, having just arrived, were clearly out of sync with the simultaneous respiratory actions of everyone around them. Ruby was able to lead her friends to a quiet square that she and Yang always played around in when they were kids, and it was where they hung out with friends after school.

"Okay. I didn't really plan on going to this square until wayy later, but I guess I can move it up the list."

"Does this place hold significant value, Ruby?"

"Me and Yang hung out here all the time after school. We'd sit right here, at this fountain, and just lick on some popsicles from this vendor around the corner. He's probably still here, but it isn't the right time."

The group sat on the fountain, a wave of silence washing over them. The only sound that could be registered was the trickle of the fountain water and the footsteps from the main street, alleys away.

"So!" Ruby leaped up, turning and facing her friends. "Where to first? I had a tour planned out, but I sort of, uh, forgot it."

"You mentioned there being some sort of shopping mall here. If possible, I'd like to go there first."

"But we don't have a lot of Lien."

Weiss pulled out her credit card. "I'll pay."

"Didn't that card get cancelled by your dad?"

A look of annoyance came up from remembering all the times her card had been denied. "This is a new one. Lien from my own allowance put into a bank account that I opened up myself."

"How grown up."

"Alright!" Ruby pulled up all her friends. "First stop, the shopping mall!"

Looks of dread came from the only two males of the group.

* * *

In the skies above the coastline of Patch, a single Bullhead flew overhead. However, this Bullhead was not like other Bullheads. Painted an institutional white, the cockpit was much more streamlined, much less bulbous than the generic Bullhead. The overall body of this Bullhead was thinner, pinching vertically towards the end. Imperial white streamers flew at the tails and at the end of the engine nacelles. A single white snowflake was emblazoned on it's port side.

"So this is Patch, hmm?"

Inside, Jacques Schnee viewed the island of Patch from a sleek window facing the city. He was accompanied by Klein, who sat in the seat opposite from him to his right.

"Yes, sir."

Jacques shifted his gaze towards the port, eyes falling on the American naval vessels.

"And those must be the blue men's ships."

Klein had to look through his own window to confirm what his superior had said. His eyes widened at the sight.

"By Dust, they are! Oh, look at the size of _that_ one!"

Jacques looked towards where he thought his servant was referring to and observed the particularly large ship. It was relatively flat save for a single structure, and it's entire deck was covered in strange crafts.

"Hmm." He stroked his white mustache, brows furrowed in thought. "They must be an interesting people. If they have been isolated for so long from the Kingdoms, there will surely be a high demand for Dust."

"That is an appropriate prediction, sir."

"I can only imagine the profits to be made... Those vessels of theirs must consume Dust by the crate load if their size is of any indication. Perhaps if I am able to make contact with the Admiral in charge of this fleet, the SDC may be able to hold some leverage in whatever market they have."

"Should I notify the marketers, sir?"

The man sat, thinking how he would go about securing the SDC's position in the new market these blue men imposed. A plan soon formed, a plan that would rest on many unknown factors. Yet in order to enact this, he must first achieve the reason he traveled to Patch in the first place.

"No," Jacques said pointedly, causing Klein to tense. "I must first retrieve the person whom is the whole reason I came to this backwater in the first place."

Leaning back in his chair, he continued looking out the window, searching the port city of Patch for a girl in white, for a girl whose credit card he cancelled.

"Your dream meets reality, daughter Weiss."

* * *

 **A little late, I know. Seems like it'll be six days at least between chapters. But at the same time, this is a little shorter than the last chapter.**

 **So Jacques Schnee steps into play, hoping to cash in on the new "Kingdom" these "blue men" come from. Blake has fled in the night. Yang is showing signs of depression. Jaune is trying to hide his sorrows. Yup, seems like volume 4 to me.**

 **Estimated time of next chapter: February 17th**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, NicV here with another chapter of** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Approaching timeskip, just reminding ye.**

 **A few responses to reviews:**

 **ashnoggin101 - I know :) That's the point for Jacques.**

 **B312 - Well yeah, the Americans in their current state won't mix well with him. Although it is arguable whether we as a whole are his people. More on that in the future.**

 **war90 - Are you psychic? I'm pretty sure you are. In regards to Ruby, I have an idea as to how she'll make contact with the Americans and enact Summer's will. However, nothing is on paper- it's all in my mind -so things are subject to change.**

 **Prince of Austria - There are always those chapters where we just need to understand the gravity of the situation and what it means. Don't worry though, there'll be more ass kicking in the future.**

 **Damn, my pacing is horrible.**

 **Trying new format.**

 **I do not own RWBY.**

* * *

 _Aura. The driving force behind every movement of every Hunter and Huntress in Remnant. It is the manifestation of one's soul, of one's potential and is used for a wide range of abilities. Every person's Aura is unique to that person. It grants them specific abilities and strengths, attributes that vary from individual to individual and are dependent on numerous other factors. Aura comes in many different colors and it is said that anything with a soul can have Aura, from Humans to Faunus. Only the Creatures of Grimm are the only known form of life that does not have Aura. These facts have lead to numerous, heated debates on whether or not a living individual without Aura is considered "soulless." It is a heartless subject and an even heartless fact to be told "you have no soul."_

* * *

 _6 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _USS Pericles DDG-129_

 _Time: 0900 (9:00 AM)_

Unlike other ships in the strike group, the _Pericles_ had sustained little to no damage. She had been lucky enough not to be hit by any of the razor sharp feathers that were launched by the Nevermores upon their arrival in Remnant. Other ships were hit, although the damage would only be superficial. No critical systems were damaged like the belt feed line to the 5" gun or puncturing of main hydraulics lines.

Charlie Wickerson was currently sitting in the mess, and gathered around him were many of his fellow ship mates. They were all told to gather there by their Captain, who stood off in the corner with the other officers. It was rumored that the Admiral would be making a statement about the current situation through a fleet wide PA network. Everyone sat quietly, a few whispered among each other, but other than that, all was quiet. The PA crackled to life.

 _"Men and women of the United States Navy,"_ Admiral Carter's voice came through. _"As it remains, we, Carrier Strike Group Eleven, are still in uncharted waters. And we may very well be for an indefinite amount of time."_

Admiral Carter's voice paused, as if expecting some reaction or burst of whispering voices. There were none.

 _"To some of you, it is quite clear that we are not in the South China Sea anymore. Maybe not on the planet Earth anymore. I know that those of you who volunteered to leave as a shore party encountered creatures that are not of our Earth. I am here today to tell you that we are indeed_ not _on Earth._ _"_

 _"From what our Fleet Intelligence officers have been able to tell me, as well as local military leaders, we are not on Earth, but on a different planet entirely: Remnant, as they call it. Here there are only four civilizations of humanity, as they appear to be, known as the Kingdoms. Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, Atlas. We are currently docked at the island of Patch, a territory of the Kingdom of Vale."_

 _"I am working with local government leaders to help us with our situation and perhaps grant us their version of asylum. Until then, we will remain docked here."_

Admiral Carter stopped, preparing himself for the next point.

 _"I understand that many of you have families, homes to go back to. I do too. As it stands, we may or may not be able to see our loved ones again. Should we find a way home, I guarantee you all that we will do whatever it takes to execute it and return to Earth, to our families and to our friends."_

 _"That is why it is so important now more than ever that we remain unified in the face of the unknown. As people of Earth, we are Americans. As Americans, we are fellow servicemen and women. And as fellow servicemen and women,"_

 _"We are family."_

Admiral Carter cleared his throat, preparing himself to take on a more serious tone.

 _"Maintain your ships. Maintain your bonds with each other. Until we receive word from the Vale government, you are all granted shore leave. It is up to you whether or not you'd like to take advantage of it. You all deserve it. Admiral Carter, out."_ The PA fell silent.

The crew of the _Pericles,_ and most likely the crews of all the other ships sat dumbfounded. Here they were, hoping to get some announcement that they'd be returning to base or docking at a friendly port for some relaxing leave and a chance to speak with family. Only to get told that they weren't even on Earth?

Slowly, ever so slowly, did the crew trickle out of the mess. Some returned to their original posts, others confined themselves in their cot. Only the close, interlaced groups of friends remained the same, the value of their friendship deepened by the depth of the situation.

"Hey, Charlie," It was Jarvis, his accent a little sorrowful but still upbeat. "You wanna head into town wit' me n' Sam here?"

Sam, or Samantha, sat behind Lorrie. Her blonde hair was all bundled up in her cover, but trace of it peeked out the back edge. Her green eyes looked at him with sadness, but held some cheeriness to them, in compliance with the Admiral's advice.

"We don't got any money."

"Bah, you don't need money to have a good time. This lit'rally a whole new world 'ere man."

"We can't read their language."

"Ahh, but did you hear those blokes who left our ship yesterday? They was speakin' _English!_ And pretty damn good too."

Charlie leaned back onto the table, rubbing his eyes underneath his blue cover cap. "That raises a shit ton of questions, Lorrie."

" _Questions_ that we can find _answers to_ if we just got off this damn boat! Those people seemed civilized, right? So then they must be educated right?"

"Yea."

"So then we can just play the game we 'Mericans have been playing ever since the Iraq war. Win the hearts and minds of the people!"

"Jarvis..."

"Come _on_ _, Charlie!_ " Jarvis half shouted, half spoke, almost in desperation. Then, he grew silent before continuing.

"You heard what the good Admiral said," he began, "We're not on Earth. We can't go home to our families any time soon. So until then, _we're_ ," he gestured to him and Charlie, him and Samantha. " _We're_ all we've got." He looked hopefully at Charlie and at Samantha before leaving, feet bringing him to the outside.

Charlie watched until Jarvis left the room before turning to Samantha. Their eyes met until Samantha brought hers away. Standing up, she clapped Charlie on the shoulder before leaving after Jarvis.

"Come on, Charlie," her voice whispered to him.

 _"We're all we got."_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Main Commercial Plaza_

 _Time: 0930 (9:30 AM)_

Charlie flinched in anxiety and annoyance from what felt like the twentieth pair of eyes fall upon him and his crewmates. Ever since they stepped foot on the mainland, people gave them curious glances and analytical gazes. They'd look at their uniforms and go _"_ _Hey, it's the blue folk from the battle at Beacon"_ or _"Daddy, why do they wear that? It looks funny"_ before looking away or being hushed by their guardian. An odd change in pace from the normal treatment at Yokosuka or other U.S. naval station.

"So this is what you meant by 'win the hearts and minds of the people', eh Jarvis?"

"Well we're winning their minds aren't we? Just smile and wave," Jarvis responded, continuing to walk while smiling and giving small waves to the children that looked at them.

"At least we're not the only ones who went out for some leave," Samantha diverted the two men's attention to another group of sailors who were being hounded by a group of over curious hunters-in-training. All female.

"See Charlie," Jarvis referred to the other group, "we're not the only ones. Now, let's go and find some center or plaza. Get some food and maybe talk with locals."

"We don't have any money."

"Bah, we're practically celebrities here! There has to be someone who was there at that castle that we saved. Hell, we might get stuff for free!"

"That seems a little selfish," Samantha pointed out.

"Hey, we deserve something after the shitshow we saw up there," Jarvis countered. "You saw the wounds some of our fellows came back with. _Some of our fellows._ Not everyone came back alive you know, sometimes not even in one piece."

"He's right," Charlie intervened before things got heated and somber, "Let's just walk around a bit. We might meet some people, or we could link up with another ship's crew."

The group continued walking, and people slowly lost their interest in them. However, that didn't mean that Charlie didn't lose their interest in them.

"Lien..."

"Huh?" Samantha heard Charlie mutter.

"I keep hearing this word, 'Lien'. I guess that's their currency."

"'Lee-yen'?"

"Lien, yup. Although I don't know why there are different colors."

Samantha thought in silence a bit before giving a response. "Maybe it's like Singapore, where smaller bills indicate smaller value and bigger bills indicate bigger value."

"Yeah, that seems to make sense."

"They look like monopoly money, if you ask me." Jarvis commented.

People gave them a wide berth as the group walked on the sidewalk. Literal crowds split apart to either side to make way for them. While it helped that their paths were clear, it did nothing to alleviate the sweltering heat that bore down on everyone's backs. Eventually, they reached the main entrance to what appeared to be an indoor mall. Two opaque glass doors stood in their way, a small crack in between them allowed Charlie to feel the cold air seeping out.

"It's air conditioned!"

"Move out the way, man!"

Jarvis ripped open the door, relishing in the cool air. All around them, people were doing the same. They leaned against the walls, sat in corners and near fountains, taking in and enjoying the cold air.

"You know, I would've thought that with the orange leaves and all, it would've been colder out," Samantha noted.

"Feels like the Philippines."

"Feels like Arkansas."

Samantha took off her cover and wiped some sweat off her face. Putting it back on, she noticed that the mall they were in was three stories tall, with varying shops all around her.

" _Couture de Mistral_ _, Vale Dress, Carmen Ross..."_

 _"Oh god,"_ both men realized what was gonna happen. Charlie forced his heat and discomfort away before going up to Samantha and placing a firm hand on her shoulders.

"H-hey, maybe we should stick together? I mean, we're all foreigners here."

Samantha scoffed, picking up on their fears and calming them down. "Relax guys, I don't even have any Lien."

"Good, 'cause I ain't spendin' this leave with buyin' clot-"

"Although it wouldn't hurt to look..." Samantha began slipping out of Charlie's grasp, her eyes being drawn to one dress that she could bring back as a gift for her sister.

"Charlie, you better stop that woman!"

"I'm trying, damn it!" He was in front of her now, trying to stop her from entering the store and stopping all of time for the rest of their leave. _"How is she doing that?!"_

"Doing what?!"

" _That!_ " Charlie gestured to her feet.

"What are you- _Oh my god!_ "

Samantha wasn't even moving her feet, yet she slid towards the store effortlessly, even with Charlie putting in everything he had to stop her advance. The store clerks noticed what was happening and turned into medusa's; their hair becoming snakes, their arms gesturing threateningly for her to come and buy things.

Charlie started running and pushing in the opposite direction, to no avail.

Meanwhile, a large crowd began gathering around them, laughing at Charlies vain attempts to stop their fellow sailor and at Jarvis, who was shouting obscenities and various slurs in an attempt to get through to Samantha.

" _Seaman Samantha Verd, as your rank superior I order you to stop!_ "

She stopped.

Jarvis sighed in relief.

"Pulling rank, come on Jarvis," she complained in annoyance.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well like I said, I ain't spendin' this leave in some clothes store."

"We don't even have to stick together. We're all adults, right?

Charlie stood up and took his cap off, recovering from the effort he exerted in stopping his fellow crew mates advance. "Yeah, but we're not from this _planet_ _._ Some people may not want us here."

"Bunch of crap. Like Sam here said, we're all adults and- _is that a manga store?!_ "

He ran off towards said manga store, his eyes roving over every book despite not being able to understand the writing.

"Yeah," Charlie laughed out.

"We're all adults here."

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Main Commercial Plaza_

 _Time: 0925 (9:25 AM)_

Another hot, humid day in Patch. Don't let the autumn leaves fool you, the vegetation and cloudless sky will be sure to whip it into you that this island has conditions and temperatures rivaling that of Vacuo.

From the roving forests, dense clouds of vapor will arise; the water cycle, universal in all places, visible at work.

In the high mountains, natural temples of stone, water will run down to the valleys below- a place filled with life and life blooming.

Yes, all of this in order to contribute to the hot, sticky air of Patch.

But it was going to get very cold, very fast.

"S-sir, are you positively sure that Miss Schnee will be at this islands main thoroughfare?" A portly man stated in apprehension. In front of him was a tall, white haired man, with a white mustache, with a white business suit, and a white business look.

"Klein," the white dressed man began, "I know that I may appear to be _neglecting_ to pay attention to my daughters, but I do so in actuality. I do so _very_ thoroughly."

"H-how, sir?"

"Through their bank accounts whenever they purchase some frivolous clothing item from some heathen retail store."

"But sir, I thought that Miss Schnee declared her monetary independence from you and opened her own banking account?"

The white dressed man didn't stop walking when he replied. "She declared financial independence from me with _my_ money. I was able to find out where she transferred it and bribed the banking agent to allow me access to it. Unfortunately, I can only see her transactions, not bar access."

"That seems a little underhanded, sir," Klein pointed out matter-of-factly.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Mister Sieben."

Klein fell silent and continued marching behind his superior. All around them people were moving out of their way to create a path for the Schnee scion, throwing some hateful glares and silent curses inside their heads. Jacques Schnee was not blind or deaf to this, however. He simply ignored their silent acts of hatred and continued his path to his destination, SDC private guards following all the way.

He was above their petty ways.

Reaching the main entrance of a grand shopping complex, two of the guards moved forward and opened both glass doors for him. As he entered, the sound of the rushing water of the fountain outside seemed to cease as it was replaced by the background noise of the thousands of voices in the mall. Pulling out his Scroll, he noted the last item Weiss had purchased was a dress from a clothing store: _Carmen Ross_.

 _How she can find the fashion in this backwater appealing is beyond my comprehension._

Moving forward, his security detail filed in a circle around him and Klein, carving a clear path through the crowds of people in the mall. Glancing at a map of the mall, he made his way to _Carmen Ross_ , a small fashion store located at the other entrance to the complex. Soon enough, he saw the store; a small room labeled with the words _Carmen Ross_ in faux fancy letters, most likely a pathetic attempt at looking high class.

As he approached the boutique, he noted a group of blue sailors in a nearby manga shop, apparently trying to get one of their comrades to leave the book store and go to look at other wares.

 _Perhaps one of them is a high ranking officer...I should try to initiate good relations._

A certain girl's voice brought him back to the task at hand. It was easy enough to identify her in the throes of people around them, her immaculate white dress and platinum white hair sticking out like a sore thumb.

"...All I'm saying is that when they say '35% off for every two you buy', the discount that comes with the two you buy should be added on as well!"

"But that doesn't make sense! Then we would've gotten 75% off total, no sane company would ever add original discounts to new ones," a particularly high pitched voice stated.

"I'll tell you what it really is," began a male's voice, "highway robbery. Ruby's claim makes more sense."

"Hah!" retorted the high pitched girl's voice, "Told you I was right Weiss!"

"He didn't say you were right, he just said it made more sense-"

"Weiss," Jacque's voice cut in.

Their shallow argument stopped. Weiss turned to look at Jacques.

"H-hello father."

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Main Commercial Plaza_

 _Time: 0935 (9:35 AM)_

"H-hello father."

Jacques straightened up his posture and looked at his daughter, making sure to initiate eye contact. Clasping his hands behind his back, he waited for her to _correct_ herself.

"I-I mean," she cleared her throat before greeting in a much more appropriate tone, "Hello, father. I didn't know you would be visiting. You should've called."

His hands remained clasped behind his back, face clearly unimpressed with his daughter's on the spot greeting.

"I didn't come here to visit you."

"Then why have you come?"

"To return you home, to Atlas."

Weiss' face looked shocked, though she tried her best to hide it. Her friends were also dumbfounded by the news, especially the one wearing a cape.

"Wait, wait a minute," she cried out, "You can't just take her away like this!"

"I am her father. It is wholly within my power to do so."

"But she just barely arrived!"

"If I recall, she was sent here temporarily before appropriate parents and guardians arrived to return them home, seeing as Beacon is no longer... _accessible_ and so is the majority of Vale."

"Doesn't she have a choice?!"

"Ruby..."

"No, in fact she does _not_ have a choice. As she is only seventeen, she is not yet classified as a legal adult under Vale or Atlas law, and as her father I have the right to return my daughter home away from this bloodshed for some well and proper rest," Jacques finished with a faux-somber tone, utilizing a tactic he used often against new business leaders, who were generally gullible and easily swayed.

"But!-"

"Ruby," Weiss' voice cut through the two so sharply you could feel the air displace, "It'll be fine. _I'll_ be fine."

"Weiss..."

"He is correct, Ruby," Ren's level voice interrupted, "Weiss is not yet a legal adult. While it dismays us to have her leave like this so early, it is beyond our reach."

Jacques gave an appreciative look towards Ren, but the stoic, serene man did not return the Schnee's gaze.

Smiling to himself inside of his head, Jacques unclasped his hands from behind himself and clapped them together in front of him. "Come, Weiss. Let us not make anymore of a scene than we already have."

A group of brave people had come to surround the group, brave because of the guard's imposing stares and brave because of the Schnee lord currently standing in their midst. Weiss clutched the grips of the bags containing clothes from _Carmen Ross_ , her head looking down at her fathers feet, and began to follow behind him.

"Oh and Weiss," Jacques said while continuing to walk, "Drop those bags of rags you're holding. I won't permit them on the Bullhead."

It took a second or two, but to Weiss it felt like minutes passed thinking whether or not she should follow her father's demand.

Two bags fell to the floor.

As Weiss walked away, trying to remain stoic in front of the people, Klein remained standing in front of the group, specifically in front of Ruby.

"I am very sorry," was all he said before flipping around and following his superior.

He did, much to the group's appreciation and awe, take the bags that Weiss dropped and ran to catch up with the group.

No doubt he would stow it away in one of the Bullhead's compartments.

* * *

 **Shorter chapter, I know.**

 **I missed the estimated due date again as well, this time by a whole eleven days.**

 **I'll just say it was _that_ time of the school year again: course selections for junior year. **

**Should I keep AP US History or no?**

 **Estimated time of next chapter: March 7th**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone, NicV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **Guest - Thanks for the advice!**

 **ShadowofAxios - It's pretty easy for me to remember general facts, but very specific things like a certain name among ten other names will be a little hard. Essays are easy enough.**

 **war90 - Pretty sure you're psychic.**

 **ashnoggin101 - You actually made me laugh with that, nice one!**

 **Is there a way to check how many people actually follow you as an author?**

 **I also have a new story in the works for a pretty obscure fandom: _Arpeggio of Blue Steel_ _._ Expect the first chapter soon.**

 **I do not own RWBY.**

* * *

 _"The United States Navy. A global force for good. First founded in 1775, the U.S. Navy has come a long way from it's days as refitted two masted merchant ships and schooners. It is now the prime example of global power projection in the world. With a total of seven hundred ships, over three thousand seven hundred aircraft, and over three hundred thousand active duty personnel, it is the strongest, most powerful military force to have ever been conceived. It's origins can be traced back to the Continental Navy during the American Revolutionary War, a war that would give birth to one of the strongest nations on planet Earth. With the world's largest carrier fleet, the U.S. Navy maintains the mission to protect and defend the United States and her allies right to move freely on the oceans and to protect her against her enemies"_

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Main Commercial Plaza_

 _Time: 0940 (9:45 AM)_

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen whole minutes to pry Leading Seaman Jarvis Lorrie from a manga store containing text that he couldn't even read.

Fifteen minutes.

"Alright boy and girl," said Jarvis Lorrie, the manga fanatic, "where should we bring our merry selves next?"

"I'm hungry"

"We have no money"

"Well do you have a better plan, Miss Verd?"

The trio of sailors continued conversing as they stepped out of the store, trying to figure out where they should go next, considering they didn't have any money. Reluctantly and with a bit of grief, they decided to mooch off some easily impressionable business owner and mooch off their kindness by using their actions at Beacon situation to somehow gain their sympathy and maybe get some free stuff in the process.

That or they could steal. Something that Samantha of all people suggested.

"Steal? Sammie are you serious?"

"It was just a suggestion, Charlie!"

"I don't like mooching off people's kindness either but stealing from them is a bit much"

"Hey, Charles, isn't that the white girl whose friend you patched up back at the castle?"

He immediately turned around, eyes scanning for said white girl. "What? Where?"

"You turned around so fast, I'd say you're desperate. Over there, following some older guy, probably her daddy or whatever judgin' by his suit"

Charlie's eyes tracked to where Jarvis was pointing, right to a sad and sullen looking "white girl" following a stern looking "white man" that appeared to be her father. Both were dressed in immaculate white clothes, the father having some snowflake emblazoned on his left shoulder.

"Oh yeah, it is her- oh god!"

Charles was knocked over by a short, stout man carrying two bags from some retail store.

He immediately got up and helped Charles up with an outstretched hand, picking up the two bags during the process.

"Are you alright?" the short man asked, "I am so sorry for knocking you over, my sincerest apologies to you, mister...?"

"Charles, just Charles," the sailor coughed out.

"Once again, my sincerest apologies to you, Mister Charles"

"It's fine, really"

It was then that Klein Sieben noticed the uniform that the man in front of him and the companions surrounding him wore. A United States Navy Working Uniform Type I.

Klein's eyes lit up in awe, in awe of being in the presence of one of the sailors who worked aboard such grand ships. The whole thing reminded him of his days before entering service under Jacques Schnee as a caretaker, his days as a young man toughing it out on the cold seas of Atlas, catching fish and fighting off the occasional Kraken or Serpent. No matter how rare it was, every time one of those big Grimms appeared, it _always_ brought a rush of adrenaline, of excitement.

"You all must be sailors aboard those magnificent ships of yours!" Klein yelled out.

"Uhh, yes but it's nothing to-" Charles was viciously shoved aside, Jarvis picking up where he cut Charles off and giving Klein a wide grin.

"Why yes we are! We are sailors of the _USS Pericles_ , one of those 'magnificent' ships currently docked at this island's beautiful port!"

"Amazing, simply amazing!"

"Yes, it is quite amazing mister...?"

"Oh my! Forgive me, I haven't even introduced myself!" The man put the two bags down and made a grand show of bowing to the group of sailors.

"Klein Sieben, of the Schnee Dust Company, at your service!"

"Charlie Wickerson," Charlie said, nodding downwards.

"Samantha Verd," Sam said, giving a small wave.

"And the leader of this little group, Leading Seaman Jarvis Lorrie! At your service as well, Mister Sieben. But please, call me Jarvis, all my friends do"

At this, Klein blushed ever so slightly, flattered and amazed at the uniformity that the sailors in front of him displayed.

"Oh please, call me Klein"

"Klein then. Now, if you'd be so nice as to perhaps show my friends and I some quarter..."

 _Oh no, he's going right for the clincher..._

"... it would be greatly appreciated..."

 _And he's even using Beacon as an excuse..._

"you see our engagement at Beacon has left us with some quite traumatic-"

A voice, sharp and authoritative, rang out.

 _"Mister Sieben!"_

Klein, who was listening attentively to Jarvis's tirade and whose mind was on the verge of agreeing to all of Jarvis's demands, immediately turned around to face the source of the voice, Jacques Schnee.

The U.S. Navy sailors, sailors of the most powerful, best equipped, best trained Navy on planet Earth, gave a collective _"oh shit."_

After all, they were not exempt from the event of getting chewed out by superior officers.

* * *

 _"Mister Sieben!"_

As Klein turned to face the voice, Charlie noticed that the white haired and well dressed man from earlier came power walking over, his apparent daughter in tow. She still looked down, but compared to earlier she seemed a bit happy that she had not yet left the mall and was still in the area where her friends were. Probably also because of the bags that Klein was holding, if the way she looked at them was any indication.

"Mister Sieben," began the white haired man, "I assumed that you would follow us after making sorry apologies to that group of ruffians that my daughter calls her friends. And why do you still have those bags? I thought you would pick up on my notion for you to trash that garbage immediately"

 _Damn, what an asshat. Worse than the instructor back at Academy._

"I apologize-" but Klein was ruthlessly cut off.

"Of course you apologize. It's all I ever observe you doing out in public. We run on a pinpoint schedule, Klein Sieben, and this little minute delay has shifted things by an order of magnitude"

 _Doubt it._

It was then that Weiss recognized the group of people Klein was standing in front of, and seemingly just had a conversation with until he was interrupted by her father. Specifically, Weiss identified the young man standing next to the young woman as the same man who was at Beacon, the very same sailor who attended to Yang's severed arm and even attempted to help Ruby.

"Previous commands still stand, Klein," spoke Jacques in a much calmer but still authoritative voice, "Dispose of those rags"

And to Charlie's horror yet delight, and to Weiss's amazement, Jarvis spoke up against the Schnee head.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt your lil' tirade, but my buddy Klein and I here was havin' quite a nice conversation until you decided to interrupt us"

The white haired man turned to look at Jarvis, his eyes roaming all over him, taking in features and possible attributes. He especially noted the uniform and his two comrades next to him.

"I was simply speaking to my... _associate_ and reminding him of our minute schedule and the importance of it. I hope that you can understand, mister...?"

"Jarvis Lorrie. Call me Mister Lorrie," Jarvis's eyes locked onto the Schnee's, initiating a fierce staring contest.

"Jacques Schnee," said the now known Jacques Schnee with an aristocratic and British-like voice, "Of the Schnee Dust Company"

 _Great, a corporate man..._

The two men shook hands, continuing to stare each other down, not even bothering to look at their handshake as both men telegraphed the action perfectly. Standing straight and tall, like a sailor would when manning the rails, the two continued their little contest, trying to exert dominance in a silent conversation.

Klein picked up the bags and began walking to the nearest trash can. Charlie decided to follow after him, noticing that the white haired girl was watching him quite closely.

"Here, let me help you with that," Charlie took the two bags from Klein, who relinquished them rather easily.

"Thank you, Mister Wickerson I really do not want to throw these away, but my superior demands it. You understand, right? Commanding officers and whatnot on board those grand ships of yours?"

"Yes, I can understand. And relate," Charlie nodded his head in affirmation.

Just then, Klein had a breakthrough. Stopping his walk and making sure that Jacques was still preoccupied, he threw an arm around Charlie's neck and whispered to him in a low, rushed tone.

"On second thought, perhaps you could hold on to them? I know that the young miss probably will not appreciate me giving these away to you, but I hope that she'll find solace in knowing that they weren't wasted. Do you have a girlfriend perhaps? Maybe she'll like these clothes"

"Oh, uhh, I mean, I don't really-" but Klein cut him off there.

"Great! Thank you, Mister Wickerson, I truly appreciate your cooperation"

"But I don't have a girlfriend-"

"Is Miss Verd not your significant other?"

"N-no, we've never spoken much-"

"Then friends at home? Oh, whatever, just take care of them. And if you really cannot hold onto them, please come to the Bullhead terminals"

"Where's that?"

"Near the docks, oh you can't miss it. The place with all the Bullheads and Dropships moving to and from, though I am sure your own aircraft shadow them easily"

"Uhh, thanks?"

"No, Mister Wickerson, thank _you_ "

"Please, call me Charlie-"

But Klein was already walking off, following his superior who had apparently lost the silent battle of masculinity and was storming out of the mall, trying to retain as stoic as possible. His daughter followed close behind, Klein already telling her of what he had actually done with the clothes.

" _Man,_ that guy was an asshole!"

"Agreed"

His fellow sailors were walking over to him, talking about the rudeness of the man and his treatment of his employee.

"I could feel it in the air, the stench of that guy's rottenness. His guards had it around them too, made me want to clock one o' 'em right in the face"

"Agreed"

It was then that Jarvis noticed Charlie was holding two bags from a retail store that was apparently for women, judging by the feminine looks of the bags.

"Uhh, any of you two come in a," Charlie pulled out a random garment, a white-blue cardigan, "a size small?"

Two hands went up.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Main Commercial Plaza_

 _Time: 1000 (10:00 AM)_

As Charlie pulled out Weiss's clothes, the group of sailors were completely unaware of one cape-wearing, 5"1, fifteen year old girl watching them.

With her big silver eyes.

"Ruby," Ren tried to pull her out of her unconscious gazing, "stop that. It is rude to stare, especially toward the people from those ships"

She continued to stare.

 _Which one of them is the leader?_

She looked towards the young man holding the bags from _Carmen Ross_.

 _He seems like leader material, but I'm having second thoughts._

Trying to find some rank designation, she moved her eyes towards the sole woman of the group.

 _No chevrons or stars... wait, they don't use Atlas ranking, forgot about that._

There was a small part of Ruby that made her think that the one lady in the group of sailors was actually the higher ranking officer, and that the two men reported directly to her.

Then again, that small portion of Ruby was the same portion that remembered vaguely some details from one of Blake's books, _Ninjas of Love_.

 _Maybe they're into that?... Nah...?_

She turned to the one other male in the group, the loud and seemingly very friendly sailor who raised his hand when the other male pulled out the white-blue cardigan that Weiss bought.

 _No self respecting leader would ever volunteer to wear such a feminine article of clothing, no matter how much of a statement it makes._

"Ruby," Ren succeeded this time in pulling her from her gaze, causing Ruby to stutter and step on her own words.

Ren ignored her gibberish and went right to the point. "It appears as though those sailors received the bag that that short man earlier had taken. Perhaps we should retrieve it?"

"H-huh? Oh! Oh, yea, w-we should"

Walking towards them she was starting to hear their conversation, though it was a very strange dialect she understood it nonetheless.

"... Why would you even raise your hand in the first place if-"

"Hello!"

The group stopped their conversation immediately, turning to face Ruby. The way they all turned so methodically and so simultaneously sort of unnerved Ruby, prompting Ren to initiate.

"Hello," Ren gave a small bow, "we just noticed that you're in possession of one of our friend's belongings"

"Oh, these are your-"

"Yeah," Nora interrupted, quite savagely, "so fork 'em over"

"I'm sorry?" the blonde haired sailor replied, looks of astonishment on their faces.

Ren quickly came to the rescue, "Please, excuse my friend's words. We just noticed that that short, stout man from earlier gave you one of our friend's belongings, and we'd like to take them back to her"

"Oh," the man holding the bags shoved the cardigan back inside, handing them over to Ren, "Here. Hope you can find your friend, she was the white haired one right?"

Ren nodded in confirmation. At this point, Ruby had already recovered and decided that it would be now or never in regards to fulfilling her mother's wishes.

"E-excuse me, uhh, which one of your here is the higher ranking officer?"

At this, Jarvis narrowed his eyes, street smarts kicking in in his mind. "Who's askin'?" Jarvis questioned, in his toughest and gruffest voice possible.

"R-Ruby Rose, sir!"

Jarvis leaned down and looked hard at Ruby, who was currently in a perfect form of attention despite not serving in the armed forces. It was perfect form, textbook all throughout from the straight back to the feet at a forty-five degree angle. He imitated what he'd seen most marine instructors do when heavily inspecting a recruit; walking around Ruby with his hands clasped behind his back, yet never taking his eyes off her form, remaining silent all the while, emphasizing his calm breathing.

Stopping in front of her, he noticed she was sweating bullets at being inspected so intensely, he kept up the facade for all but a second more before he burst out in laughter.

"W-what?" Ruby broke her form, confused as to why Jarvis was laughing.

"Hey," Jaune said a little threateningly, making sure his eyes met Jarvis's.

"Oh relax, blondie. Just playin'," turning towards Ruby, he locked his eyes with hers and spoke clearly. "For someone who looks like they've never even set foot in a military base, that was the best form of attention I'd ever seen. Ruby Rose, right? What'd you need?"

"Uhh, a-are you the leader of this team?"

 _Why'd I say 'team', c'mon Ruby!_

"Team? Well, I outrank these two by a bit but that doesn't really matter to me. I'm not an officer, Miss Rose, neither am I a non-commissioned officer"

"O-oh... But you still outrank them?"

"Yup," Jarvis made sure to pop the "p" in that.

"Is there any chance I could speak to your guys's leader?"

All eyes came bearing down on Ruby, suddenly very interested in what was going to happen next.

"Well..." Jarvis looked towards his associates, who simply shrugged their shoulders. "Well what for?"

"I, uhh, I can't really... It's hard to say"

Jarvis stayed silent.

"L-look, maybe if I can talk to your leader I can get something going? It'll be hard to believe at first, but maybe you can understand?"

"Now look, I can't really bring you to our Captain or Admiral like that unless you've got-" and then Jarvis remembered. Why they were even in town in the first place. He remembered the good Admiral's words.

 _"I am here to tell you that we are indeed_ not _on Earth_ "

 _"As it stands, we may or may not be able to see our loved ones again"_

 _"We are family"_

"Uhh, hey, Jarvis buddy? You alright there?" Charlie shook his friend's shoulder, rousing him from his daydreams.

"Huh? Oh, ehyea, I'm fine," turning towards Ruby, he agreed to take her to their leader, no matter how cliche it sounded.

"Really? Oh, thank you! Really, you don't know how much this means to me!" Ruby tried to envelope the man in a death hug, but he quickly evaded it, sending her right towards Samantha.

 _I'll kill you in your sleep!_

 _I didn't say I'd be sleeping in my bunk tonight yet, haven't I?_

Sam, defeated in their silent battle of wits, resigned to the spine-crushing hug. Luckily, Ruby let go of her rather suddenly, casting her gaze upon Charlie. "Hey, you were at the Battle of Beacon, weren't you?"

"Yea, I was. Uhh, navy corpsmen"

"Core-men? You mean the guys with the red crosses and stuff?"

"Uhh, yea, a field medic of sorts"

"I wasn't able to thank you when you tied up my sister's arm. Thank you for that"

"Oh, yea, no problem. Part of the job," And then Charlie remembered a very dramatic part of the battle, something that he would never forget.

 _"Jumping into the air, she twisted her scythe in one broad stroke, wiping out a whole flock of minor Nevermores"_

 _"Running right in the middle of a coiling King Taijitu, she stuck Crescent Rose in the ground and lashed her foot out into the King Taijitu's flesh. The speed at which she stopped herself and the momentum from grabbing onto Crescent Rose swung her in a small, super-sonic circle, her foot_ carving _into the snake's flesh, rending it's scales open and killing it from having it's guts_ fly _out"_

 _"Digging Crescent Rose into the ground again, she swung herself across the battlefield, all the while switching Crescent Rose into it's sniper form and killing dozens of Grimm"_

"Uhhhhh,"

"You alright there, Charles?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm good. I'm... good"

 _Good is all I'll ever be compared to what I saw up there. Maybe even worse._

"Soooo, when can we meet the General? I mean Captain. I mean Admiral!" Ruby flubbed up the ranks, not used to the American system.

"Well, we were assigned leave today so," Samantha looked towards Jarvis. "We wanted to find something to do, or maybe even... eat, but since we didn't have any money, we were sort of just going to wander around"

"Your Kingdom does not use Lien?"

"Uhm, no we don't use Lee-en. Basically, we're broke"

"Oh... I see"

Ren stepped back, pushing Jaune in front of him.

And in a show of interactivity, Jaune actually invited the three sailors to join them.

"Oh, you really don't have to-" Jarvis cut in, lightly pushing Samantha out of the way.

"Really? Are you serious?! Oh, thank you! Thanks man, really, means a lot to us"

"It's fine. We can afford to have you with us"

With Weiss's bags in hand, and the sailors attached to their group, the seven made their way out of the crowded shopping complex, moving out towards the hotter yet the now less crowded streets of Patch.

* * *

 _7 September 2016_

 _United States of America_

 _Honolulu, Hawaii_

 _Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam_

 _Time: 1300 (1:00 PM)_

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

A location of great tragedy.

A location of great importance.

December 7th, 1941. A date which will live in infamy.

Known as Operation Z by the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service, the attack on Pearl Harbor was a preventative action to keep the U.S. Pacific Fleet from interfering with Imperial Japanese operations in Southeast Asia. Over the next seven hours, similar attacks were carried out on other U.S. territories: the Philippines, Wake Island, and Guam. Even the British Empire would be hit, bases in Malaya, Singapore, and Hong Kong coming under attack like their American counterparts.

The skies of Pearl Harbor on that day would be filled with over 300 Imperial Japanese fighter planes, bombers, and torpedo planes from six aircraft carriers. Eight U.S. Navy battleships would be damaged, with four sunk. Three cruisers and three destroyers would be damaged or sunk. An AA training ship and a minelayer would be damaged or sunk. Almost 200 U.S. aircraft would be destroyed, with over 2000 Americans killed and over 1000 wounded. It would be a major tactical victory for Imperial Japan, and would set the United States of America on the warpath.

Today, September 7th, 2016. Never again would an attack like Pearl Harbor ever occur.

A Hornet flew in the skies, one modern fighter craft compared to the hundreds of prop planes back in the day.

"Pearl _Harbor-Hickam approach, Silver, level fifteen thousand"_

 _"Silver, Pearl Harbor-Hickam approach, turn right heading zero-nine-zero, descend and maintain nine thousand"_

 _"Right zero-nine-zero, descend and maintain nine thousand, Silver"_

It banked with a grace that little other craft could achieve, descending with control that no warbird of WWII could hope to match.

 _"Silver, turn right heading zero-nine-five, descend and maintain five thousand, slow to two-zero-zero knots"_

 _"Turning right heading zero-nine-five, descend and maintain five thousand, slowing to two-zero-zero knots, Silver"_

Banking right again, it decreased engine speed smoothly, exhibiting the skill of the pilot in handling their aircraft.

 _"Silver, intercept localizer runway zero-four left, clear ILS zero-four left"_

 _"Cleared ILS zero-four left, Silver"_

Descending, the pilot brought the craft down towards the runway, a clear shot in front of her.

 _"Pearl Harbor-Hickam Tower, Silver with you on localizer zero-four left"_

 _"Silver, roger, cleared to land zero-four left"_

 _"Cleared to land zero-four left, Silver"_

A single McDonnell Douglas F/A-18 Hornet landed on the runway, gears down and flaps down to maximum depression. Upon hitting the asphalt, the aircraft's spoilers went up, further slowing down the Hornet. With the craft just above stall speed and less than a foot off the ground, the Hornet landed smoothly on the runway, with no bounces.

 _Yes, another smooth landing!_

It taxied to it's assigned hangar, systems being shut down once it was parked inside. Immediately crews went to work on it, replacing hydraulics fluids and performing avionics and engine checks. The bubble canopy flipped open, the pilot stepping down and turning around to watch the crews do their work. Taking off her helmet, she set it down on a nearby bench.

Silver eyes looked back to her beloved craft.

* * *

 **Heyy, I'm another day late! Well, better than last time, amirite?**

 **I thought that some of the dialogue here was a bit awkward, and even after revising it, I still think it is. Oh, and sorry if I get any aspects of the landing at Pearl Harbor-Hickam wrong, I can't really take the time to measure out actual degrees and azimuths and headings.**

 **Guess who the mystery pilot is?**

 **Estimated time of next chapter: March 14th**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everyone, NicodemusV here with another chapter for _The New World._**

 **Late again. And I had a really good streak going (Two on time!)**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **Oh wait, there are none. Mainly 'cause you all must live inside my head and know everything that'll happen within this story!**

 **But just to confirm your guys's suspicions it is indeed [REDACTED].**

 **If you haven't noticed, a new story of mine's been posted: _Invictus._ It's for a small and obscure fandom (on fanfiction at least) for one of my most favorite animes. I recommend you watch it if you're into sci-fi military naval battles of a decimated humanity.**

 **I do not own any assets mentioned.**

* * *

 _"The soldier. The sailor. The airman. The marine. The hunter. The huntress. What all of these professions have in common is that they fight. They are all, in some form or another, servicemen and women of their country or kingdom. They are the first and last line of defense against all things that seek to destroy their way of life, whether it be human, faunus, or evil incarnate. They serve selflessly, devoting their lives and every action that they do to the preservation of our society. Every tour they go on, every exercise participated in, every joint operation conducted, every mission undertaken; it is all for the defense of the people, of life as both we and they know it._

 _And we take them for granted."_

* * *

 _7 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _USS Enterprise CVN-80_

 _Time: 1425 (2:25 PM)_

It was another humid day at Vale's resident island territory.

The U.S. Navy vessels all rested at the docks of Patch, their hulls just tens of feet away from the jetty of which the destroyers, frigates, and supply ships were docked at. It was quiet, as the sea gently brushed against the vessel's hulls, gently pushing against the cement of the jetty, and gently swaying the great anchors of the warships that prevented them from drifting away.

Personnel walked all around their vessels, performing daily maintenance checks and manning posts. But for the most part all was calm. There was no need to keep every station online and manned, as they were docked safely in a foreign nation's port. Granted, they had never before met this foreign nation, but they were there. Most ship's were shut down, unnecessary equipment and operations being shut off to conserve fuel. The supply ships were there, but the officers wanted to err on the side of caution.

Admiral John H. Carter sat in his office aboard the _Enterprise_ , anchored as close as possible to the port without obstructing any traffic and without danger of running itself aground.

He had in his hands some papers, mainly the profiles of crew members aboard the _Enterprise_ and the other ships of the group. There were at least fifty of such files, all various men and women from the many ships of the fleet. He looked up to his Rear Admiral, Katherine Wallace. All of the files that were given to him were stamped with a big yet conservative red stamp. Carter recognized that stamp.

He hoped he'd never see it again.

"How many?"

"Seventeen, sir."

Of all the times his Rear Admiral could be free from her assigned duties, it was to give him this.

"From which ships?"

"Four from our own. One from _Capstant._ Two from _Damasche._ Two from _Acticia._ Three from _Secular_. And five from _Pericles."_

The Admiral put his head in his hands. Rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, he continued.

"Cause of death?"

"Fifteen from suicide. Two succumbed to injuries sustained earlier at the battle of that castle."

"Total death count?

"Forty-three, sir."

"Have we recovered the bodies of the twelve?"

"Yes, local law enforcement found them on the island, on the outskirts of their city."

Admiral Carter began looking through each file, making sure to remember their names, burning their faces into his memory. He would add them and their files to a growing section in both his file cabinet and his heart. Continuing to read through each file, he remained silent for a while. But Katherine was not finished.

"The Patch Police Department sends their condolences," she forced out. "Psychological therapists are also offering their services, free of charge."

"Tell them thank you, but we don't need it," Carter continued to go through the files, not looking up. "The last thing I want for my sailors are more reminders that they're not at home."

"Understood, sir."

Putting the files down for a moment, he looked up and made direct eye contact with Wallace, causing her to stiffen up.

"We will hold a small memorial service for those that have fallen. It will take place five days from now. Hopefully the locals will let us use some clearing or strip of beach or whatever."

"I will coordinate with the other Captains of the fleet, sir."

Receiving a silent nod, she saluted him before stepping outside of the admiral's office. The door closed lightly.

As Carter finished reading through the last of the files, he stood up with said papers in hand. Taking a few steps to his right, he opened a file cabinet drawer and slid in the documents.

It joined twenty-six other files, twenty-six other _KIA_ stamps.

* * *

 _United States of America_

 _Honolulu, Hawaii_

 _Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam_

 _Time: 1430 (2:25 PM)_

 _"... A standoff occurred just hours ago between a U.S. destroyer and a PLAN vessel in the South China Sea. Official reports say that the U.S. Navy vessel, an Arleigh Burke class destroyer, USS Bentham, received a lock on notification from a Chinese warship operating near the area."_

It was crowded in the mess hall of Pearl Harbor-Hickam, but every now and then the noise and chaos would go silent whenever the local news station uttered something relevant for once. It happened on 9/11, it happened during the Boston Bombings, and it would continue to happen whenever the situation called for it.

One woman watched the screen wearily with her eyes. Fellow airmen and sailors crowded around her, but paid her no mind, their attention fixed on the small television up in the corner of the room.

 _"... the situation was very tense as the two ships faced each other off, the Bentham had locked onto the Chinese warship, now identified as a Type 054A frigate FFG-574 Sanya. Although the ships were prepared to fire on each other, attempts to contact the Chinese vessel had been successful and the situation defused. Officials say that the captain of the Bentham operated in self defense, and had no real intention of firing on the warship. There has been no comment from the Chinese, although it is reported that..."_

Someone approached the woman from her left, some papers in her hand, office staff. Although the staff worker went to tap her on her shoulder, the woman had already begun turning around, casting her eyes on the intruding person.

"Ma'am, base commander wants to see you."

"The... base commander? Why him?"

"I'd assume your monthly checkup, ma'am."

Sighing, she gathered her empty tray and stood up, thanking the staff worker. As he walked off, she placed her tray in a stack of empty ones over a trash bin, taking one last look at the television before exiting the mess hall.

 _"Despite accounts from crew and bridge officers, Captain Derrick Lyriman will be attending a hearing..."_

* * *

Stepping outside the building, the woman breathed in the air around her, relishing the smell of the tarmac and jet fuel, of exhaust fumes being exerted into the skies up into the atmosphere. She watched as a _C-17 Globemaster III_ took off from one of the runways of Pearl Harbor-Hickam, no doubt on it's way back home from dropping off supplies.

As the _Globemaster_ climbed up into the sky, she looked around for the office buildings. Finding it, she began walking only to remember that it was nearly a mile away, on the other side of the base. Walking would take too long, and if she sprinted she'd arrive within a reasonable amount of time but look unpresentable.

 _Maybe just this once... short bursts only._

Steeling herself, she crouched down into a track runner's position. Making sure that there were no eyes watching, which she doubted, she pushed off and began.

 _Control, control._

Stopping herself, she put her back on the backside of a wall, just an inch away from flattening herself on it and probably collapsing the building altogether.

 _Damn, that was close._

Mentally setting up another waypoint, she made sure that there were minimal eyes watching, noticing that one of the security cameras had shifted to her position, it's black lens staring into her soul.

She waved, before stepping away.

 _How long's it been? A minute?_

She stepped back into existence perfectly against the side of a hangar, her breaths having quickened a bit.

 _I really need to find someplace to practice without being seen._

She prepared to engage her semblance again, before her hearing caught wind of two Air Force personnel stepping out of the hangar doors. Acting as naturally as possible, she walked out in front of them, the two pilots taking notice of her. They went to strike a conversation with a fellow pilot, Navy or not, until they noticed her rank. Trying to stay calm, they gave her a brief nod before quickening their pace, maintaining their conversation all the while.

She stepped again.

 _Just a few seconds away, come on, control!_

Stepping back into visual sight, she dusted herself off before entering the building. Some base personnel gave her looks, but once they saw her eyes they went back to their tasks, knowing what the woman was here for. Finding base commander Captain Phillip Eremont's office, she adjusted her uniform before knocking once, twice on the ornate oak door.

Hearing a muffled _"come in",_ she opened the door and closed it behind her gently, Base Commander Captain Phillip Eremont sitting at his desk in front of her.

"Ah, hello Summer. I did not expect you so soon," there was a small smile on his face as he said that.

"I was able to arrive as soon as I was notified, sir."

"Ha! I'll believe that for now," clearing off some papers on his desk, he gestured for Summer to sit down.

"Oh, and do away with the formalities for now. We're here to talk about _you._ "

"Understood."

Settling into the chair, Summer waited politely for the base commander to start, although she already knew what was going to be discussed.

"So, how are you doing Summer?"

"I'm doing fine, birds are flying, sun is shining."

"Birds _are_ flying, Miss Rose. Any complaints?"

Summer thought for a moment before responding, recalling a lot of things she noticed since being put on base.

"Well, the coffee is crap, the bunks feel like rocks, the air conditioning keeps shorting out, there's still only one TV in the mess, I can hear shit that goes on outside-"

"Looks like everything is going fine then!" Phillip laughed at his subordinate's antics.

"Yes, sir," Summer confirmed with a small grin on her face. It disappeared when Phillip put on a more serious one.

"But in all seriousness," Phillip reaffirmed himself, how _are_ you doing?"

Summer was silent for a moment before responding. "I'm doing good, sir. Getting the hang of things now. I feel fine, my body feels fine, everything seems okay."

Phillip gave the lady in front of him a pointed look before picking up a file of papers on his desk, her profile and information.

"Let's see here," Phillip's eyes roamed the papers, looking for where to start. "You've come a long way since your appearance in New York 2006, Miss Rose. Entered for rehabilitation, released in 2007," he continued skimming through her files, reading off various facts about her life since she arrived in America.

"Discovery of some... _intriguing_ self evident abilities... this _Aura_ of yours, amazing regenerative ability, well trained hearing, above average 20/20 vision, reaction times in the milliseconds, _super-speed_ , extremely abnormal blunt force impact resistance," Phillips trailed off.

"I'm surprised you're not in some government testing facility or something, dear."

"I'm surprised too," Summer replied pointedly.

"Hmph," Phillips sounded out, "Well, let's look at other stuff... on a government watch list, ooh that's interesting, uhh, entered basic Navy training in 2008, completed in 2009, entered the naval aviation program in the same year... trained for four years, based in California in 2013, transferred here in 2015," Phillips finished with closing up the file and looking at the woman in front of him.

"You know with those abilities of yours, I thought you'd go for Marines or Army and head into one of their special forces outfits. What made you choose aviation?"

Summer thought about it for a second before coming to an obvious answer.

"I like working with machines."

"Working with machines, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

Accepting the answer, Phillips continued with his own opinion. "I can see where you're coming from. I loved working with ships, loved serving and sailing aboard them. Then they promoted me and then later put me in an office job."

"Sounds boring, sir."

"Right. But the pay's good."

Standing up, he set aside the file, Summer rising along with him. Phillips stuck out his hand.

"Well, it was very nice meeting you, Miss Rose. I understand that all your previous checkups had been with the base doctors and therapists, but I thought I'd take the time to personally meet Pearl Harbor-Hickam's very own enigma."

"Thank you, sir," smiling, she took his hand and shook it, firm yet soft.

Saluting the base commander, she turned around and exited, letting the door close shut behind her. Stepping outside of the building, she looked to the skies, watching a civilian airliner rise up into the clouds.

 _Get here soon, Ruby._

* * *

 _9 September 2016_

 _Japan_

 _Yokosuka, Japan_

 _United State's Fleet Activities Yokosuka_

 _Time: 0600_

It had been a few days now since the United States began their search for their missing carrier group.

Despite some initial finger pointing, the people of America remained rational. China had made few comments on the situation, but each time only reaffirmed the notion that they did not do anything and were not involved with the disappearance of CSG-11. In the end, when the search was put on, little to no East Asian nations objected to the Americans conducting searches. Russia and even North Korea were both quite silent about the whole ordeal, their respective governments and leaders having little to say aside from condolences and a decrease in anti-Western propaganda.

No one really wanted to interrupt the mother bear during her search for her cubs.

And so the days ran on. China continued operations in their backyard, with only one major incident occurring. North Korea was still trying to achieve effective WMD. The Middle East slowly simmered down from the melting pot it was. Friends and families of lost loved ones aboard CSG-11 mourned their losses. The monotony of life settled back in surprisingly quick in the world.

Yet the search remained at full force, the navymen and women never faltering in the hunt for their lost brothers and sisters in arms. Someday, somewhere, they would find something that would give everyone some closure.

Today would be that day.

Zachary Meeres was having a pretty good week so far. There was an anime convention nearby that he got tickets to, and this time he had friends to go with him! Yeah! Goal achieved!

Aside from his personal ventures, his week had been pretty normal, pretty routine. Wake up, get dressed, go for the morning's PT run, shower, get to his post, and do his duty. He knew his job and his daily activities like the back of his palm. He could probably do it all blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back. And still have time to go to that anime convention.

Yet for the past few days, Zach began noticing something. As a radar and communications operator, he had access to basically every route plan of every Navy vessel currently underway in the East Asian Pacific. Of course, he was not the only one, but as his role was very critical, he took immense care and precision in carrying out his tasks. One slip up could mean an entire ship going under. Or and entire carrier group disappearing.

Naturally, with such a role, he also had access to local weather data. And over the past few days, he noticed that the area in which the _Enterprise_ and her strike group disappeared in was very... spotty. Now, weather data was never very concrete even with today's advancements in predicting the week's forecast. But in this small, 4 km by 4 km square of ocean, it seemed to never match up with weather reports surrounding it. While the area outside the box would, say, be rainy or cloudy, in this small section of sea it was not rainy or cloudy. It would be bright and sunny, with humidity figures and ozone levels _way_ more different than the surrounding area.

This... anomaly would persist for days, going on all the way to today, September 9th. And it had no signs of stopping. When the area where the ships were conducting their searches were covered in clouds, this one box of water would be clear as glass. When the rest of the ocean was unleashing hell upon man's creations, this one box of water would be as calm as a sleeping baby.

Of course, Zachary was no idiot. He was a Navy man! A cyber operator that worked behind the scenes, preventing disasters and collisions, redirecting ships and the occasional passenger airliner to the nearest runway for an emergency landing. He was one of the many computer techies around the world that toiled away uncredited, unnoticed by society.

And so, any visual images he could get on the area were got. And they only confirmed his suspicions.

There would be a break in his routine. Zachary only hoped that he could get to the anime convention on time this week; if he turned in these papers, there was a chance he might be brought somewhere higher up in the food chain, or maybe even brought somewhere else.

He considered waiting another day, another 24 hours to observe the abnormal weather pattern.

 _I hope the higher ups will just accept this and leave me be._

Knocking on the office door of chief communications officer Luke Merschen, he stepped back and waited.

 _"Come in."_

Opening the door, Zach closed it behind him gently, saluting the officer in front of him.

"Meeres, great to see you," Luke greeted. The tone of his voice betrayed nothing however, remaining neutral throughout the verbal greeting.

"Sir," dropping the salute, Zach approached Luke's desk with the reports in hand.

Taking them, Luke skimmed through the papers. "Now, what do you have for me today... another _Enterprise_ report?"

Laughing quietly to his joke, Zach cracked a small grin before responding, only a bit more seriously.

"I believe it might assist in that, sir."

Stopping his shuffling through the papers, Luke looked gravely at his subordinate.

"Do you realize what you are saying, Meeres," the words came out more like an order than an actual interrogative question, but the effect did little to counter Meeres' courage.

"Yes, sir."

Taking his confirmation, Luke read through the files, mentally noting particular facts such as the 4 km by 4 km box of ocean, it's inconsistency with local weather, and it's correlation to the disappearance of CSG-11.

"... It is therefore my conclusion, after several days of intense observation of all relevant data to the situation, that the abnormality of the weather and local currents in the outlined four kilometer by four kilometer `box` of ocean has some unknown direct or indirect relevance to the disappearance of carrier strike group eleven. Personal advisory as head observer of this data is increased intensity of the investigation of the aforementioned four kilometer by four kilometer `box` of ocean."

Putting down the report, Luke looked at Meeres with amusement in his eyes. No doubt, the information was convincing; there was at least three days worth of extensive information regarding the relevant data, with all the charts and diagrams to back it up. These files would certainly make waves among the military brass, turning heads and maybe even get the attention of the media.

Well, that last part he had no doubt of. The media would always be interested.

"You know, this is the second time in less than a week that you've given me such a damning briefing."

"I realize that, sir. But I believe that this information is within correlation to the disappearance of _Enterprise_ and her strike group."

"I believe it, make no mistake. You've got the pictures and data to support this claim of yours," standing from his desk and placing the files on top of a cabinet, he put some coffee on and set out a mug for it. Trying to clear some space on his cluttered desk, he took Meeres dispatch and placed them in a drawer underneath.

"The problem is making the brass believe it. More specifically, Vice Admiral Wilson."

"I understand, sir."

"This is some good work you've done, Meeres. I wouldn't wait up for a promotion though, just remember that."

"Yes, sir."

Nodding, Meeres saluted the man behind the desk before exiting the room, the door closing with a _thud_ behind him.

* * *

 _12 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Seashell Beach_

 _Time: 1200 (12:00 PM)_

It was high noon. The hottest point of the day, and on an island such as Patch, it would be equally as humid.

Yet the atmosphere felt so cold.

The crews of all the ships in the fleet were assembled along the beach. They stood in orderly rows of white, their immaculate white dress uniforms causing them to look like one, unified block of white. A stark contrast in comparison to the yellow of the sand and the blue of the sea. Their captains and bridge officers stood in front of the enlisted, eyes facing forward.

Admiral Carter and Captain Callaghan stood before all of them, their bridge officers next to them and their crew behind them. Forty yards left of the men was a lone sailor, holding one shiny gold bugle. He stood with his back straight, eyes facing forward. The bugle lay in his right hand, resting against his thigh. The flag of the United States of America flew to the Admiral's right, followed by the flag of the United States Navy.

Some people from the city watched carefully; they lingered at the entrance of the beach, intrigued by the huge mass of white that was organized before them. Yet they kept their distance, some local police officers waving away those who they thought got too close. Atlesian officers and soldiers watched silently, curious of the mass of sailors in front of them.

A group of three sailors stood a distance away from both the sailors and the civilians, M16s resting against their chest.

All was silent on the beach.

 _... It'll have to do._

Making his voice as loud as possible, to carry it out over the assembly as much as possible, Admiral Carter began.

"In memory of the fallen," Carter started.

"Louis K. Chapman."

"Amanda Erica Williams."

"Herbert Meridi."

"Kent Damian."

"Alberto Avidad."

The first volley was fired. _Taps_ began to play.

"Russel DelaCruz."

"Allison Harrison."

"Lee."

"Oliver Pardigas."

"Matthew Welsh."

The second volley was fired. Every sailor had their right hand up in a salute.

"Mark Smith."

"Janet T. Hart."

"Ismene Odile."

"Roman A. Oswald."

"Ruth Ann."

"Gillian Lee."

"Michael Judge."

The third volley fired. The lone bugler finished playing _Taps_.

Within the now large group of people that had assembled some ways away from the group, Team RNJR watched. Everyone around them, mostly students and hunters-in-training, remained quiet; some of them had never been to a funeral until now. While the Grimm was a fearsome, immensely powerful opponent, the skills and Auras of most Hunters worth their share allowed them to return home safely. The death of a Hunter was seldom, aside from the incident at the Beacon, the death rate of Hunters in Vale was only 7%, most dying from old age or illnesses.

"This is... this is a military funeral, isn't it?"

"It's a lot less classy than most Atlesian funeral processions, at least the one example that I'd seen."

"You've been to an Atlas funeral, Jaune?"

Jaune grunted in affirmation. "For my great grandfather."

The crowd began to disperse, low murmurs echoing throughout the crowds.

"So... what'd Lorrie say about your little request Ruby?"

"He said that the Admiral said he would take it into consideration. They had some business to take care of, if what we're seeing here is it."

Nora nodded at the fact. She held her weapon in it's warhammer form, holding it upright on her right side. She stood silent for a bit, Ren copying her action. Eventually she shifted her weapon to grenade launcher form before holstering it at her side.

"Let's go get ice cream."

* * *

 **Hey. Hold your stones, keep them in your bags!**

 **Late again, mostly due to school buildup again.**

 **If I offended or insulted anyone with the way the military memorial service went, I apologize. I did some research and tried to make it as realistic as possible in the setting that the Navy sailors are in; not on Earth, little resources available, indefinite amount of time possibly spent away from home, etc.**

 **Estimated time of next chapter: March 22nd**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone, NicV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **We've reached over ten chapters! This has officially become my longest standing story aside from** ** _The Age of Sail._**

 **Last chapter had probably the biggest timeskip we've had. Five days or so. I really want to up the pace, get to more flag events so that the plot will thicken.**

 **Maybe it was a bit predictable, having Summer live on on Earth. You guys practically called the shots last chapter.**

 **Perhaps this time, your responses will be different.**

* * *

 _"The Kingdom of Atlas. Formerly known as Mantle, Atlas is located on the continent of Solitas, the northernmost continent in the world of Remnant. Compared to most other kingdoms such as Mistral, Vale, and Vacuo, Atlas functions differently; their government, military, and Academy system are all intertwined, acting as a single entity. Aside from the heavy centralization of their society, they host the largest supplier of Dust in the world, the infamous Schnee Dust Company. They are also the instigators of the bloodiest, deadliest conflict on Remnant to date: The Great War. During this war, Mantle made many technological innovations, granting them the power to wield the enormous airships that fly in the skies of Remnant today. Everything from the blade to Dust to the firearm was taken and improved upon, paving the way for Atlas to be the dominant power in the world, with a military matched by no other"_

* * *

 _15 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Atlas_

 _Atlas Mainland_

 _Time: 0900 (9:00 AM)_

Three days had passed since the U.S. Navy's memorial service on Seashell Beach.

By now, everyone in Remnant knew who the new arrivals were. Even the more news-savvy individuals of the criminal underworld knew. What made it more interesting is that they were apparently not of this world, this biosphere.

When the news broke out that they were alien, there was quite a lot of controversy regarding the subject. The Vale Council was wary, but understanding of their situation. They had not yet proven to be hostile; after all, they did assist in the evacuation of Beacon and most of Vale despite being in a completely foreign world with absolutely no relations or contacts with anyone. The Valean people also trusted them, their presence in Patch extremely diminishing criminal activity.

A noticeable trend wherever an American base was located. That is not to say that they would build a base on Patch, oh no.

At least, not yet anyways.

Mistral was much like Vale in a way, although their words were friendly not many cared for the arrivals. They simply hadn't interacted with them enough to pass good judgement upon them.

Vacuo was very accepting. The Vacuoan Council had already made plans in hopes of getting the U.S. Navy's fleet to come and dock at one of their ports. Seeing the effect that they had on crime in Patch had risen the hopes of some Councilmen and women in decreasing their own levels of crime. They admired their ships, especially the big one; the carrier, the largest of all the vessels in the group, was the one vehicle out of all that the Counselors admired. It simply excreted power, of military might. Atlesian airships just didn't give off the same effect as the carrier.

Maybe it was the big tower standing tall amidst the flat, low deck. Or perhaps it was the jets flying off the runway at ludicrous speeds, speeds that even the latest Bullhead or Dropship could hope to accomplish.

Atlas was downright negative. They hadn't declared war yet, all thanks to Ironwood, but anyone with half a brain could tell that Atlas, more specifically the Atlesian military, did not like these new arrivals. Upon hearing that they were aliens, the Atlesian business bosses and elites cried havoc. While the lower class civilians were pretty neutral, big business moguls felt threatened. Here was an entire fleet, with enough munitions and firepower to level maybe all of Vale, with technology advanced enough that their aircraft could go past the speed of sound, with materials strong enough to survive the deepest depths of the ocean, and _none_ of it ran on Dust.

It was mind boggling.

The implications that this had on the Dust and technology market was _insane._ And if what this Admiral Carter was saying is true, then there's an entire _world_ that doesn't run on Dust.

That's an entire _world's_ worth of possible business.

The reaction of the military was equally hazing. For years, the Kingdom of Atlas was the undisputed military power of Remnant; with an air fleet of three hundred airships, approximately seven hundred thousand military personnel, the military leaders of Atlas enjoyed a long reign of might over the other Kingdoms, which had no standing army to speak of. Their airships were large, well armed, and while not particularly fast, were well armored. Any Kingdom would be hard pressed to invade.

But all of it was rendered moot in the face of the word that most people had come to revere, to be curious about.

Earth.

Yes, an entire planet lay before the Atlesian military, vast tracts of land with innumerable amounts of resources ripe for the taking. It would simply be a matter of sending in a small platoon of Hunters and an airship to support them every now and then to harvest these valuables, eventually building a base and claiming dominion in the name of Atlas. Alas, that is not the case.

Unlike Remnant, almost _every_ single nation on Earth had a standing army. Whether it be a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million, it didn't matter. There was a nation with men and women in uniform, armed and trained, equipped to wage war and defend their nation if need be. Suddenly, Atlas didn't feel like the biggest boy on the block. No, they were now probably just one of the growing boys on a very long street of houses, houses that were constantly getting better and better as time went on.

And this was why General James Ironwood was presenting to the Atlas Council a general report, a basic confirmation assessment on the capabilities of Earth and it's inhabitants. James was no greenhorn when it came to politics and government processes; he had grown accustomed to it since he was a Major General. He knew how to confront politicians, when to confront them on their desires, and how to bend those desires to something more... tame. And with the whole outflow of information regarding the now officially recognized United States Navy, getting the Council to be tame was an immediate goal.

James was waiting outside the doors to the Council Chamber, two guards standing on either side of the entrance. Looking at his watch, he noticed that he had exactly a minute before his presentation started. He'd been standing there for five, checking and making sure that his little slideshow on his Scroll was working and in order.

"You can enter now, sir."

Nodding to the guard that notified him, James ignored the slight pain that his movements made from his injuries and stepped inside the Council Chamber, the doors automatically opening for him.

The Atlas Council chamber was a big room, with high arched ceilings and circular walls all around. He himself stood in a small pit on a level lower than that of the Council members and any spectators in the audience section behind him. Stepping out into the light, he made his way to the podium and connected his Scroll to the port, the image on it being displayed up to a four sided holographic viewer above him, level to the eyes of the Council members. There were no spectators, courtesy of the guards at the front of the audience seating entrance.

"Counselors."

"General James Ironwood," one of them spoke out. "What does the Atlas military make of the Americans and the capabilities of their world?"

James looked towards the man who spoke. He was an old, tall, white haired man. Dressed in an immaculate white suit, he looked to be a carbon copy of Jacques Schnee. But his voice spoke otherwise. It spoke of experience and general concern. Desire yet fairness in said desire. This powerful elder was Counselor Oswald Marouc.

Going to his Scroll, he unlocked it and accessed his presentation, displaying it on the holo-viewer above for all the Council to see.

"As it is displayed up above, the Americans are just one of hundreds of... nations on their planet, Earth. And from what they have said, it seems that they are one of, if not _the,_ most powerful nation of them all. Two other kingdo- nations -come close: the Russian Federation and the... People's Republic of China."

"Should we be worried about America's power?"

"What are our chances in a conflict with any of the nations on Earth?"

James remained stoic as he was asked these questions; he was expecting them. Retaining his stiff upper lip visage, he continued on with his presentation, trying to keep it linear while attempting to answer their questions.

"America, or officially known as the United States of America, has a population much larger than any kingdom on Remnant. They have an approximate population of 319.4 million people. Their territory stretches from coast to coast; from this Atlantic Ocean to this Pacific Ocean. Aside from their mainland, they also have land in... Alaska and an island chain called Hawaii."

The presentation above showed crude snapshots of the mentioned territories from a map on the _USS Enterprise._ The counselors examined it deeply, astonished at the amount of land they held under control.

"Their form of government is based off democracy, something that was experimented with some time ago if I remember correctly. A government that is, and I quote "of the people, for the people, by the people."

At this the counselors were silent. Although they looked stoic and silently, motionlessly gestured for James to go on, he understood the implications of this form of government called democracy. If it ever made a handhold in Remnant, it would be a threat to not only the Atlas Council's power, but to all the Council's of Remnant.

Moving to the next slide, to the slide that he knew would draw some conjecture from the Council, he braced himself.

"Their military. They did not give us any exact number of how large their military is, but they did give us some basic information. They didn't give us any information on how their technology works for the most part either, besides the fact that none of it runs on Dust."

Pictures of their vessels and aircraft came up on the holo-viewer. While there were photos of the _Arleigh Burkes_ and _Ticonderogas_ , the main ship of interest was right smack in the center: the _Gerald R. Ford class super-carrier._

"There are five branches of the U.S. military: there is the Army, the Navy which is the branch we are in contact with, the Air Force, the Coast Guard which is to merge with the Navy during wartime, and the Marine Corps. Now, we were not given specific numbers on how many ships they have and how many soldiers they have, but considering they have five branches of armed forces, we assume that they have at least one million active duty, with maybe hundreds of thousands more on reserve."

Answering the questions that were asked earlier, "As it stands, we should be cautious, not fearful, of America's power. The information correlates with the assumption that they are indeed the dominant force on Earth, and perhaps a possible contender here on Remnant. And as I said earlier, there are many smaller countries on Earth that exist. We can stand up against these smaller nations, but any bigger and our chances drop considerably."

"But they have no Aura, no Hunters!"

James looked up towards the Counselor who said that, Counselor Ariana Ilium. She was the youngest of all the Counselors, younger than James, yet was perhaps the most curious and cautious Counselor of all time. Any actions she made were heavily discussed with the other Counselors, going through numerous modifications and delays in order to satisfy the needs of the people and the Council at the same time. Her acts were effective at times, but the amount of time it took for a decision to come through from her was her crutch.

"Indeed, they have no Aura. From what they have said, no one in the entire population of Earth has Aura, or Dust, or even Grimm. But that does not mean they are powerless. Of the hundreds of nations on Earth, the United States is generally considered to be the "good guys." They are allied with numerous other countries and are part of a military alliance called the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, or NATO for short. This alliance is comprised of twenty-eight member countries; while we do not know the specifics of their alliance, we can infer that they will back each other up much like Mantle and Mistral during... The Great War."

With the mention of The Great War, the room became silent, deathly silent. Not even the whirring of the ventilation system could be heard. The Great War, however long ago it was, was a dark stain on the history of Atlas.

"NATO is not the only military alliance the United States are apart of. They are also a _permanent_ member of the United Nations Security Council, or UN for short. Like NATO, this is a military alliance comprised of fifteen member states, of which five are permanent members. Ten others exist, although it is unclear whether they are permanent or... leased members."

The idea of a military alliance appealed to the Atlas Council. During The Great War, they were allied with the kingdom of Mistral against Vale and Vacuo. Yet proposing such an alliance would bring about certain implications from the people, causing an amount of civil unrest that did not sit with any of the Councils of Remnant. Unrest brought fear and fear brought Grimm.

"We would be able to successfully invade and occupy one of the smaller nations of Earth. But the countries of Earth are, as evidenced by NATO and the UN, are heavily intertwined. Attacking one nation may provoke a response from another, more stronger one."

"Enough of this," another Counselor spoke. "We are not going to declare war on any of the nations of Earth anytime soon. That is not our goal, that is not our focus."

James liked the conviction that this Counselor spoke with. While he held two seats on the Atlas Council, his work at the Atlas Academy and military prevented him from truly getting to sit down and get to know his fellow council members. The man who had said such words was Counselor Arthur Solaras. He was slightly older than James, but was also former military. Gray hair creeped up the sides of his head, blue eyes piercing out into the open. He had an eyepatch over his left eye, a scar peeking out from the top and bottom.

"Our focus here is to see what we can learn from these people, what we can learn to advance the society of Atlas and maybe Remnant as a whole. The Americans are powerful, yes. The Americans are a mighty foe, yes. But what we should be asking here is can _we_ be like them? They are advanced yet primitive. They have gone to space yet have not developed airships of our caliber. They use a form of government deemed inefficient and time wasting, yet are the most successful and most powerful of all the nations on Earth. Why is this?"

James made a mental note to take some time out of his schedule to actually sit down and talk with this man. He was unlike any other Counselor he'd ever spoken with.

"I believe it is their form of government," Oswald answered.

"I actually think it is because of their lack of Aura and lack of Grimm," wisely answered Counselor Bethany Steins.

Oswald questioned Bethany why.

"Their lack of Aura has made their conflicts, whatever amount they have, much more bloody than our own. I am not questioning the severity of our own conflicts," Bethany quickly defended herself from the looks she got from the other counselors by saying so.

"I am just saying that their lack of special attributes has forced them to make decisions that demand compromise or peace. Here, we have our Hunters and Huntresses. Any conflict between our kingdoms now would be much more disastrous than even The Great War. On Earth, it is different. They do not have Hunters and Huntresses to act as a sort of... buffer from conflict. They do not have Grimm either. The lack of these two factors make decisions made there much more critical than our own. Without Grimm, they need not fear of civil unrest and disorder. They can wage war as bloodily and as heavily as they like."

"I don't think-"

"I'm not finished. Their lack of Aura makes their wars much more dangerous, as I have said. And their lack of Grimm allows them to expand as much as they like. But when conflict comes into play, decisions that their governments make have much more at stake than us. They have entire civilizations and populations at stake. Thus, decisions must be beneficial for both sides lest both sides be ravaged by war. In effect, they advance their societies in great strides, developing as much as they can during peaceful times. And by the time the next conflict is about to occur, they have even more on the table that they have to worry about, thus making decisions that are made bet on whether or not it is worth destroying their livelihoods for."

Once again, the Council Chamber was dropped into quiet.

...

...

"A little rough around the edges," Arthur broke the air of silence. "But an intelligent answer, Bethany."

Saying a small thank you, she relaxed into her chair.

Finishing his report, James picked up his Scroll and gave a small bow to the Counselors, despite holding a seat himself. They got up out of their seats and walked silently to a hidden exit behind the high backs of their chairs, leaving James alone to the exit behind him.

Pocketing the Scroll, he adjusted his tie before exiting the Council building.

* * *

 _16 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Rose-Xiao Long Household_

 _Time: 1200 (12:00 PM)_

Jaune stood in the backyard of Ruby and Yang's home.

He was breathing pretty hard, his shirt sticking to his chest. Beads of sweat ran down his neck, some resting on around his face. He glared at an unseen enemy, Crocea Mors gripped in his right hand and his shield in his left. Remembering Pyrrah's lessons, he went through his routine again.

Taking the initiative, Jaune stepped forward with his left foot, bringing Crocea Mors in a high arced downwards slash, his right foot moving in after his swing.

 _Shing!_

You could hear the whoosh of the air being displaced by the ancestral blade.

Thinking that his hit didn't connect with his invisible foe, he bent his right foot's heel and his left knee a bit more, bringing his shield up against his enemy's strike.

An inaudible _thud_ rang throughout the yard.

Relaxing his unconsciously tightened chest, he sidestepped to the left, watching his enemy pass by with a follow up strike that hit nothing but air. Bringing his shield down to his side, Jaune lunged forward with a stab, imagining the blade connecting with his opponent's chest.

With the stab connecting, his enemy retreated back a couple steps, attempting to recuperate.

But Jaune was faster now.

Having recovered from his lunge, Jaune slashed at his enemy again, cursing as he watched it miss his foe's chest by inches. Taking a small step with his left, he slashed again, this time the blade carving a path along his foe's aura from left shoulder to right hip. His right foot moved in support.

His intangible opponent prepared to defend from another strike, not expecting Jaune to follow up with another slash after the first one failed. His adversary put up arms to defend against another possible attack, mentally planning out the next move after Jaune's attack was successfully blocked.

Putting both of his own hands together behind his shield, he stepped forward with his left, his right quickly following, kneeling down a bit on his left knee to gain more strength in his move before releasing it.

His muscles ached, but they pushed his weight up into his opposition's guard. The shield slammed into the enemy's body, launching them up a bit before falling to the ground, dazed by the unexpected shield bash.

Seeking to end his opponent quickly, he thought of two moves he could do to force them to either yield or die.

 _Downwards stab or downwards slash._

Seeking the move that could be executed as fast as possible, Jaune stepped forward with his left, bringing Crocea Mors in a downwards stab towards where he thought his opponent's neck would be.

 _Thud!_

The blade hit an empty spot of grass. His enemy had moved at the last second.

Jaune, knowing he was vulnerable attempted to block the next strike, dodging it being too slow and parrying it being too up to chance. The strike could be anything, from a bullet fired to a blade thrust at his face.

It was a kick. The sole of an unseen boot smashed into his face, launching him back onto the grass.

Jaune watched as his opponent quickly leap up from the ground and rush him. The next hit could be anything, Jaune knew this, so he decided to experiment.

Mitigating the next hit as much as possible, he took it on his shoulder while stabbing forward into the attacker's chest.

 _Shing!_

His opponent tried to get up. But Jaune would be quicker than that. He slashed at his enemy's legs, knocking them to the side before bringing Crocea Mors in a high arced downwards slash.

 _Whoosh-_

The blade connected. Right in the middle of his foe's body, it carved a deep canyon in the Aura, forcing it to it's limits before finally breaking.

He imagined the sound of glass shattering.

With his enemy's aura depleted, he put his boot on his opponent's chest and brought Crocea Mors down next to him on his right, the tip of the blade just inches away from his foe's neck, his elbows ready to launch forward and stab into their vocal chords.

Winner: Jaune Arc.

Standing back up again, he got back into his starting stance before repeating the routine again.

Two sets of blue eyes watched from within the shade of the house.

"He's been at this for a while now, since nine o' clock. He's been awake since seven too."

"And he's just been training?"

"Yeah," Taiyang watched as Jaune brought Crocea Mors in another downwards slash, the blade whipping the air around it. "Woke at seven, exercised for a couple hours then went onto this routine. I think he's changed it once or twice, but this one is the one he's been at the longest."

"Mmm."

They watched as Jaune raised up his shield, performing a shield bash filled with lower leg power, his knees bringing him up into his unseen opponent's guard. Taiyang nodded in approval.

"He's not that bad," Crocea Mors sliced through the air. "A little slow, but overall pretty solid."

"Yeah," Yang agreed with her father, Jaune stepping forward with a lunge and a stab. "Took him a while to get to this point."

"I've been where he's at right now. I remember handling it just like him: train and train and train. You notice there's not much Grimm on Patch anymore, right?"

"Yeah."

Taiyang only smiled to himself, his mind filled with memories of how he dealt with Raven leaving and then Summer dying. How furious those times were.

"Why am I not surprised?" Yang giggled softly at her father's lack of an answer, although the look on his face told her everything, "I guess it makes sense, my semblance is all about rage anyways."

Taiyang looked towards Yang, his face sliding back into an analytical look. From students at Signal, this was his "professor" face.

"Your semblance is not just all about rage, Yang. Sure, you can take a hit and give one back even harder, but it's not just about getting hit to become stronger."

When Yang didn't respond, he continued, "Every hit you take only serves to empower you. So it makes sense. But that's not all about it. Look at Jaune over there."

Jaune had switched routines to a much more offensive, more aggressive one. Yet in all of his motions and steps, he retained control of his strength. Crocea Mors came down in a high diagonal arc, the air being pushed out of it's place and the blades of grass visibly moving.

"Look how fast he swung that sword. You could see the grass moving, Yang."

"I don't see what you're getting at here, Dad."

"He swung that sword so fast he could've flipped himself around and fallen on the floor."

"He had good footwork, Dad, I can see that from here. It's Jaune."

Ignoring his daughter's remark about her fellow classmate, he tried again to get her to see what he was seeing.

"It's not just his footwork. He put a lot of force into that swing, Yang, yet he was able to recover and go for a second swing just as fast as he started the first one."

Jaune had followed up his strengthened swing with yet another fast, yet powerful swing. Recovering fast, he shield bashed his enemy before bringing Crocea Mors down in a high arc. He then surprised Yang with a heavy frontal kick, his arms spread out and his left knee bent for balance.

 _Where did he learn that?_

"Well," Taiyang whistled at the impressive display, "I like this way of fighting a lot better than his other ones. Fast, aggressive, really putting his opponent up on the ropes."

Pushing off from the wall of the house, Taiyang went inside, saying that he needed to wash the dishes from lunch. Watching her father go in, she looked towards Jaune. The young man was standing relaxed in the field, his sword and shield resting at his side. Yang went to take a step forward toward Jaune, intending to spar with him for a bit.

Then she remembered what had happened to her hand.

Something clicked in her head and she growled out in anger. Her body twisted around and her fist slammed into the side of the house, leaving a sizeable hole in the home's oaken walls.

Realizing what she had done, she quickly retracted her hand and surveyed the damage. Thankfully, she didn't hit anything important, although she now had an express view of the living room. Inside her father was washing the dishes from lunch, humming quietly to himself. He either didn't hear what had happened or just let it slide, planning to deal with it later.

Yang whipped back around, facing Jaune. He was looking at her right in the eyes, and she was like a deer caught in headlights.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke eye contact. Jaune shifted back into his initial stance and went through the aggressive routine once again. His movements were slower now, his muscles fatigued from being out for so long, yet they remained smooth and fluid. Powerful and yet.

Controlled.

Yang huffed at his actions before going into the house, leaving Jaune alone in the field.

* * *

 _20 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _3 miles off Valean Coast_

 _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet_

 _Vale-Atlas Defense Fleet_

 _Time: 0300 (3:00 PM)_

The sun shined brightly on the Valean coast.

The seas, in their everlasting grace, shone a cerulean blue; the tops of waves sparkled with sunlight, swaying up and down in a sight that would enchant the casual onlooker. Above them was a blue sky, with clouds seemingly stretching on for miles in any direction. High up above, their majesty was accented by the large, majestic airships of the Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet. These large, elegant airships of war sailed the skies with a grace that one wouldn't expect from a warship. The Vale-Atlas Defense Fleet hovered proudly in the skies, overlooking the city it was assigned to.

And failed to protect.

Beyond the glistening seas, grand clouds, and majestic airships, was a city ravaged by conflict. Creatures of negativity, of fear and doubt, the embodiment of evil, roamed the streets. They claimed dominion to this once great city, this once great Kingdom. Along with them were soldiers, not of human flesh and blood, but of metal and oil. They marched, with their white armor and equally white weaponry, roaming the city in a hunt for survivors, for people that they were _supposed_ to protect. The next generation of defense, turned into a tool of oppression and fear.

Perhaps the only place of solace, the only place with a human touch, would be the very small amount of land that _human_ Atlesian soldiers had claimed. It was small, and it was constantly under siege, but the men and women who took hold of this land earned it. They fought for it, they bled for it, and even now they continue to do so. Forging onward against an infinite foe, these men and women would be locked in deadly combat for the liberation of Vale.

High up above, an airship hovered aside it's respective fleet. Yet it was larger than most, had more weaponry, and had an elegance to it that spoke softly yet firmly of power. Of authority.

An _Illustrious-class battle carrier._ The _ANV Impenetrable Shield._

Aboard this vessel of war, Fleet Admiral Herman Bej Allusia stood, overlooking the ground efforts down below and the operations of the ships in the sky. All vessels were accounted for: the three airships over Patch still existed, the U.S. Navy and their ships docked at Patch still existed, and the numerous Dropships deployed from the massive hangars of the _Impenetrable Shield_ still existed. All in all, it was just another day in the fight to retake Vale.

 _Could really use one of those boom and zoom aircraft those American's have..._

Despite the massive effort that the Atlesian forces in Vale were putting up, progress was still slow in retaking just all of the port district of Vale. It was as though an invisible force was sending all the Grimm from the rest of the city towards the Atlesian's beachhead in Vale's port, making any amount of progress costly and short-lived. A city block recovered would be lost by the next wave of Grimm, not counting the sporadic numbers of rogue Atlesian Knights that wandered their way towards the compound. Many a soldier was wounded by a random Knight firing onto a patrolling group.

 _What would the Councils say if I just leveled half of Vale..._

"Sir,"

The voice of one of his subordinates brought Herman out of his musings. Turning to the man, he silently gestured for him to continue.

"Radar's picked up a new contact; on the surface, approximately five kilometers off the coast, profile bears resemblance to the American's naval vessels."

"Show me."

The man spoke into a device on his ear, relaying orders to the radar operator. A few seconds later, the radar was displayed onto the bridge holo-screen, along with a visual of the vessel in question.

"Flies an American flag, sir. However, it does not fit the profile of any American naval vessel that we have logged"

"A new class of ship?"

"It seems so, sir."

"And there's only one?"

"One so far, sir. It also seems to have deployed some reconnaissance craft, appears to be unmanned."

Next to the window that displayed the American naval vessel, a similar screen of size and shape popped up, this time displaying the seemingly unmanned aircraft: an MQ-8 Fire Scout UAV.

 _So they have unmanned capabilities as well, that's something they didn't really elaborate on..._

After a few minutes of close inspection, Herman commented one thing on the vessel.

"This is the ugliest looking ship I have ever seen."

Long, grey, and heavily angled with a bridge tower that pops out of nowhere, the _Zumwalt class guided missile destroyer_ was indeed one of the ugliest looking ships to ever be produced for the U.S. Navy. Combine that with the atrocious cost and one would think twice as to whether or not these ships were worth it.

"I believe the shape of the ship plays some role, sir. Radar operator had to make some heavy adjustments just to get a solid contact and confirm it's existence. Without the cameras, I personally don't think that we would have even known this vessel existed, sir."

Herman grunted, "Your observations are noted, officer. Tell communications to get in touch with the Americans at Patch, tell them that another one of their friends has arrived."

Ignoring the "Yes, sir" that the officer emitted, Herman continued watching the screen, looking intently at the UAV and the oddly shaped ship.

 _You Americans are changing this world, either for better or for worse._

* * *

 **And that's a wrap! In this chapter, I tried to expand a bit more on the geopolitical scene of Remnant, especially now that the Americans are official and global news. I focused on Atlas this time, since they're a bit easy to build, but I'll try to get some politics from the other Kingdoms.**

 **Poor Jaune. Don't worry man, you'll come out of it. Same goes to you, Yang.**

 **And the two worlds finally meet. Well, not so much meet so much as another ship coming in, but you get the idea.**

 **If you're wondering where the next chapter of _Invictus_ is, it's coming! Just had very little time these past few weeks with an English quarter project, which obviously took away writing time.**

 **Estimated time of next chapter: April 4th**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, NicodemusV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World._**

 **So last chapter we saw some Atlas politics, a bit of development regarding Jaune and Yang, and the arrival of a new ship! The extremely controversial** ** _Zumwalt-class_** **destroyer. We skipped at most a week last chapter, bringing us to September 20th.**

 **A few responses to reviews:**

 **war90 - I wouldn't say they _lost_ another ship...**

 **Jack Redhawke - Duly noted. Typing fast is like that.**

 **OBSERVER01 - We'll be seeing a lot more politics in the future, don't worry!**

 **scottusa1 - Thanks for the support!**

 **I do not own RWBY nor any assets mentioned in this aside from my own fictional ones.**

* * *

 _The Zumwalt-class destroyer. A ship class that was supposed to replace the aging Arleigh Burke-class destroyers, turned into nothing but a handful of novelty toys. Albeit very expensive toys and for good reason too. Designed as a class of multi-mission stealth ships with a focus on land attack, it emerged from the DD-21 vessel program to fill in the hole left by the decommissioning of the U.S. Navy's last battleships. Built for surface warfare, anti-aircraft warfare, and naval gunfire support, it's appearance resembles the historic ironclad. Equipped with a Total Ship Computing Environment Infrastructure (TSCEI), automated damage control systems, an AN/SPY-3 MFR, SH-6 LAMPS, MQ-8 Fire Scouts, and 20x Mk 57 VLS modules, it is one of the most advanced warships in the U.S. Navy's arsenal. With a radar cross section (RCS) as small as a fishing boat, any modern navy will be hard pressed to find this vessel"_

* * *

 _20 September 2016_

 _East Asia_

 _South China Sea_

 _CSG 5_

 _USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76)_

 _Time: 1457 (2:57 PM)_

Captain Michèl Norman watched grimly as the _USS Zumwalt_ slowly entered the "weather anomaly", as the brass had come to call it.

Following Meeres' report regarding the abnormal weather behavior regarding a specific area of the South China Sea, the high ranking officers of the U.S. Navy decided to investigate this anomaly with utmost caution. With support from the government and the President, the _USS Zumwalt_ was selected to be the first ship to investigate. The aforementioned ship was soon transferred into the arms of the 7th Fleet, welcomed by the crews of Carrier Strike Group Five.

That did not mean, however, that all of the Navy accepted this operation. Some thought that they were wasting their time with searching this one small area of sea. They thought that they should be combing through the entirety of the South China Sea, analyzing every current and hypothesizing where the ocean could have taken Carrier Strike Group Eleven. To think that they'd narrow their search down to some four kilometer by four kilometer box of ocean was, in some people's opinion, a complete waste of time and resources. Not to mention that this was all being conducted in a very tense region of the Earth, a region that could erupt into war at any moment.

However, it was the sheer _incredulity_ of it all that eventually lead to the high ranks and government making a surprisingly fast decision to go through with the search. After all, you don't just _lose_ an entire strike group worth billions upon billions of dollars. Add onto that the amount of lives lost and the cost it'll take to rebuild, and you would _definitely_ want answers as to what happened to such a powerful group of vessels.

And so, Carrier Strike Group Five in it's entirety was sent to the search zone, joining with the civilian and military ships already there, and began another, more _speculative_ , search.

Michèl took a pair of binoculars from a nearby marine and examined the _Zumwalt_ intensely.

"Radar contact is solid, _Zumwalt_ is 1.9 kilometers into the search zone. Visuals affirmative, communications positive."

"How about the rest of the group?"

"All other ships in area are holding positions, status green across the board, sir."

Minutes passed by as _Zumwalt_ reached 2 kilometers into the search zone. Michèl along with the rest of the captains of CSG 5 expected something to happen by now, they did not just spend time and fuel traveling here to watch their newest addition to the fleet sail over some seemingly indiscreet box of sea and air.

With all aircraft locked down all throughout the fleet and all submarines surfaced, it was a tense waiting period as basically all eyes were on the _Zumwalt_.

Suddenly it happened.

"Radar contact with _Zumwalt_ lost! Visual contact lost... communications are still positive with _Zumwalt_ though, sir."

The operating officer leaned into the mic and attempted to raise the _Zumwalt's_ crew, _"Reagan to Zumwalt, Reagan to Zumwalt, do you read, over."_

...

Just as she was about to try and hail them again, the speaker crackled and out came a voice, a human voice.

 _"Reagan, this is Zumwalt, uhh, we r-read you loud and clear."_

Looking towards the captain, Michèl nodded and she raised the mic once again.

 _"Zumwalt, command gives green light to commence operation. Begin search. Destroyers will follow through shortly."_

 _"Aye, commencing search, destroyers follow shortly. Zumwalt out."_

With the Zumwalt seemingly in the clear, some of the officers let out a breath that they were subconsciously holding. They had just sent another multi-billion dollar vessel into an anomaly, and damned was their thinking if they were going to lose it.

"If we find _Enterprise_ and her crew," a grizzly sounding man spoke, "I believe Admiral Carter will want some level of leave. Hey, maybe he'll even resign."

"You don't believe they're dead, sir?"

"Not for one second."

Michèl stopped his eavesdropping on the Admiral and Rear Admiral's conversation, preferring to head down to the CIC and look over operations there. Bidding the other officers a notion as to where he was going, he passed by the warrant officer by the door and climbed down towards the CIC.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Carrier Strike Group Enterprise_

 _USS Enterprise CVN-80_

 _Time: 1510 (3:10 PM)_

It had been over two weeks since they had arrived in this strange world. And while a lot has certainly happened, there is always a lull in the sea, a period of time where activity is simply at an all time low.

This was one of those days.

Since the impromptu memorial service on the beach which the Vale Council had so understandingly allowed the Navy to use, Admiral Carter had since taken it upon himself to interact even more with his crew and the crews of other ships as possible. While the mood aboard all the ships was still quite somber and disparate, the Admiral's personal initiative seemed to have caught on with the other crew's high ranks and the atmosphere was slowly lightening up. Carter was slowly seeing more and more smiles from his crew, even the more grim faced marine complement kept as security aboard the ship.

Putting down yet another set of papers on his desk, Carter leaned back and sighed deeply. He had just finished going over the supplies of all the ships, as well as medical reports, the daily crew reports, and numerous intelligence factoids from the various crewmen who had entered the city and mingled with the locals.

 _Faunus, White Fang, Hunters, Aura, what else does this world have that's so damn impossible in ours..._

He was just about to stand up and head down to the mess hall and hopefully strike a conversation with one of his sailors, when his office's phone rang. Sitting back down, he picked up the phone and leaned back into his chair.

"Admiral Carter."

 _"Admiral Carter, this is Rear Admiral Wallace."_

"Yes Katherine, what is the message?"

 _"The Atlas communications operator just relayed to us that another ship has appeared off the coast of Vale. She's flying an American flag and is holding position three nautical miles from the coastline."_

At this Carter straightened up in his chair and leaned forward, face in a look of both shock and grim determination.

"Is this true? It isn't a lie by the Atlesians?"

 _"No sir, they swear they are speaking with full honesty. They attempted communicating with the vessel but she doesn't have an Atlas communications module like us."_

"Has the ship made any moves?"

 _"The American ship, as reported by the Atlesians, have only deployed a UAV, a reconnaissance drone most likely, and is currently locked on to the Atlesian ships near the coastline. No shots have been fired, but the Atlesians over in Vale are getting antsy."_

"Have we tried ship to ship lines?"

 _"Yes, sir but we can't maintain a solid connection, messages are warped and choppy. They ignored us after the tenth try."_

This was it. This was the moment where the choices that all parties involved could either make it or break it. Carter instinctively prioritized what he thought was the best move.

"Scramble an E-2C Hawkeye, we need to establish communications with the vessel. Afterwards, lead them to us and get a fighter squadron above them as escort. Tell the Atlesians not to fire and that the situation is in our hands, that we'll take it from here."

 _"Yes sir, Hawkeye Cirrus is launching, having the air boss put up the Queen Bees as escort."_

"Can the Atlesians give us a visual of the craft? We can probably identify it's class."

 _"Yes sir, please hold... oh my."_

"What is it, Rear Admiral?"

 _"Image is focusing... it's a Zumwalt class, sir. They've got eyes on one of our stealth ships."_

A Zumwalt! Carter couldn't believe what he was hearing for a second. Taking a moment to compose himself, he spoke again into the phone.

"I'm on my way to the bridge. Put the entire fleet up into Condition III. I want two destroyers to meet with the _Zumwalt_ after _Cirrus_ has established communications with them and guide her to port here in Patch. We'll work with them from there."

 _"Yes, sir."_

With the audible _click_ of the phone being put down, Carter quickly arranged his files into a neat and orderly stack on his desk before opening the door to his office. Noting the rushing sailors around him, most likely because of being set to Condition III, he walked briskly towards the bridge, silently nodding at the sailors who took the time to salute him on his way past.

 _Looks like we're going home earlier than I thought._

* * *

 _"All hands to battle stations, all hands to battle stations..."_

It was a hectic time aboard the _Zumwalt,_ the entire ship being on Condition I all throughout. The MQ-8 Fire Scout UAV had been recalled and the twenty Mk. 57 VLS modules were primed and ready to fire at a moment's notice, along with the 155 mm Advanced Gun System being aimed and up at maximum elevation.

Although they doubted it could do any worthwhile damage to the monstrous behemoth hovering just a few scant miles away, up thousands of feet into the sky.

"They" being the crew of the _Zumwalt_ , with Captain James A. Kirk at it's head. Currently he was furiously ordering his ship to maximum readiness, telling a communications operator to request for reinforcements from Carrier Strike Group Five.

"Helm, hold position. Tactical, I want firing solutions for the AGS on the closest ship and missile locks on the rest of them. Secure all aircraft into the hangar and batten down hatches. All crew to their stations!"

James walked to the front of the bridge, peering out and up at the monstrous airship hovering above. He guessed it to be at least three hundred meters in length and maybe eighty or so meters in width, but neither of those figures overshadowed the fact that it currently held a massive advantage over their heads. Couple that with the forty four or so other vessels hovering near it, and well, the odds were never better for the Americans.

 _We're in knife fighting range. We could get smoked at any time right now._

"Comms, how are reinforcements coming along? And contacting these... ships?"

"The Admiral is sending in all of CSG 5, sir. Negative on contact with the... aliens, they're not responding to any of our hails."

 _Perhaps we use different methods of communication... or maybe not._

"Get a signal out there somewhere, someone find the old signal flags and try those. Use the signal lamp too, flash out P-E-A-C-E."

As the footfalls of a sailor exiting the bridge to retrieve the age old signal flag and lamp, James put his hand on his elbow and continued thinking on how he should move forward and hopefully keep his crew alive.

 _We're getting backup, so there's that. We're still trying to communicate, so we can't say we didn't try. What else..._

Suddenly it dawned on him. The whole reason they were sent through this anomaly in the first place.

"Comms, try-" seeing that the current operator he was referring to was busy, he turned to another one waiting for further orders.

"You, try raising the _Enterprise_ and her strike group. Put out a general message for their response. If they're here, they'll definitely respond to our calls."

"On it sir. _Zumwalt to Enterprise, Zumwalt to Enterprise, do you..."_

As the woman trailed off, repeating the message, James walked back towards the rear of the bridge and sat down on his Captain's chair. Glancing towards his radar operator's view screen, he noticed a new contact come into range.

"Sir, the _Curtis Wilbur_ has arrived as backup with us. She says the rest of the group is coming in shortly, with one ship staying behind."

"Good, ask them to be on maximum readiness and for orders from the Admiral."

The radar operator turned away from James, the communications operator already speaking into her mic. The two worked in unison, no words needed to convey their messages. They did sit quite close to each other, after all.

"James, the signal flags are out and so is the lamp. We're repeating P-E-A-C-E on both methods, no response yet," Executive Officer Jackson Hughes said.

"Think we should form up with the fleet or would that be seen as an act of aggression?"

"It depends, can't tell if they've targeted us but they haven't fired a shot either. If they're sensible, they won't do anything if we form with CSG 5, since they also seem to be in some fleet."

"Yeah, if they're sensible..."

Jackson noticed his Commanding Officer's tone and clapped the man on the back. "Don't worry, Kirk, you're on a Zumwalt for pete's sake. Wouldn't take it to the aliens if they don't even notice in the first place, not without some extreme changes to their radar."

"They'll definitely notice the other ships though. Perhaps having the entire group come in here wasn't the right move."

Jackson countered his friends statement. "You're not the one who ordered that. Admiral Lee did. Now-" He was cut off by a sharp declaration from the radar operator, followed soon after by the communications operator.

"Sir, we have a new contact; it is airborne and approaching at a rapid speed. It's holding an American transponder and identifying itself as an E-2C Hawkeye."

"Is it from the _Reagan_?"

"Negative sir, it says it's from-" Suddenly the speakers on the communication operator's post came to life, spouting out the message that the Hawkeye was relaying.

 _"Hawkeye Cirrus to Zumwalt, Hawkeye Cirrus to Zumwalt, this is E-2C Hawkeye Cirrus from Carrier Strike Group Eleven; USS Enterprise CVN-80. We are reading your calls, relaying them to Enterprise. Admiral Carter orders you not to fire on the airships; repeat, do not fire on the airships. Relay message to other friendly forces."_

Immediately James made his way to the communications operator's post and took hold of the mic, " _Cirrus_ _,_ this is Captain James A. Kirk of _Zumwalt_ , repeat your last, I say repeat your last."

 _"Admiral Carter orders no hostile fire on the airships, repeat: no hostile fire on the airships, relay message to friendly forces."_

Putting down the mic, he turned to the operator and gave him his orders, "Relay that message, make sure it gets through to the other ships. Stay in contact with the _Cirrus_ , make sure it stays in radar range."

 _"Enterprise has sent fighter escort and is requesting you relocate to the following location:..."_

As the _Cirrus_ gave out coordinates, they were copied and sent out to the rest of the ships in the fleet, making sure that they had the location as well. Even if they didn't have accurate maps, charts, and GPS, it would still be simple enough to follow the Hawkeye to the _Enterprise._ Slowly but surely, ships popped into existence near the anomaly; the destroyers _John S. McCain_ , _Fitzgerald_ , _Stethem_ , _Barry_ , _McCampbell_ , and _Mustin_ came through, followed by the cruisers _Antietam_ , _Chancellorsville_ , and _Shiloh_. And finally, the big one:

The _Ronald Reagan_.

Carrier Strike Group Five in it's entirety was now in Remnant. Things are looking up for _Enterprise_ and her group, even Remnant as a whole.

 _"Zumwalt, this is Admiral Lee. I take it you've found Enterprise? As well as some others..."_ The Admiral alluded towards the enormous airships hovering ahead of them.

James personally picked up the mic, "Yes sir, we've found _Enterprise_ , she's docked at a friendly port here. The flying ships you see are apparently the ones who alerted her to our presence. Some relay between them."

 _"I see. There's apparently a Hawkeye up right now, saying that Enterprise has sent us escort. Supposedly a squadron of fighters along with two destroyers are to meet with you and take you to this friendly port. The Hawkeye will stay in the area to keep communications constant, no sat-comms here."_

"I guess I will be the one to meet _Enterprise_ , sir."

 _"That's Admiral Carter's plan. You were also the first one here, so you appear more recognizable to those ships up there. I'm having the rest of the strike group hold position here but a destroyer will go back through the anomaly and make a report to the rest of command."_

"Understood, sir. Setting course for _Enterprise_ , Captain James out."

 _"Be on your best behavior, Captain, this is a first contact situation if I've ever seen one. Reagan out._ "

James returned the mic to the operator and walked back to his seat. Sinking into the seat back, he sighed and wiped his face; the action seemed to wipe out the stress of the day's activities and Jame's face set back into that of an officer, of Captain James A. Kirk.

"Alright. Keep the ship in Condition I and set course for the location of _Enterprise_. And keep eyes on those airships at all times, operators, I want us ready to fire on those ships as soon as I give the word. Helm, put us up flank speed, I want our stealth advantage back on our side. Get us out of close range."

With orders issued, the crew went to work, the white noise of a warship's bridge setting a routine tone.

Just another shenanigan in the South China Sea.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Xiao Long-Rose Household_

 _Time: 1630 (4:30 PM)_

A hasty block there.

A weak parry here.

An exhausted, bruised, hurting Jaune _everywhere._

 _I thought he said he didn't know much about swords..._

It had been around four days since Yang's little outburst and the subsequent hole in the kitchen wall. After cooling off a bit, Yang apologized to her father, who seemed indifferent about the whole thing; he brushed it off as something that would "help her learn" and went back to watching TV.

He did make her fix it though. By herself too.

"Aghh!" The man was able to get past Jaune's dwindling guard and quickly laid down a quick, yet heavy strike on the side of his chest.

"Oops," he apologized, but Jaune could tell he wasn't really sorry. More like amused with how easy he was going on Jaune and how he kept on getting past his guard despite the semi-serious way he was taking this little tutoring session.

"It's fine," Jaune managed to growl out past the pain, "I thought you said you didn't know much about swordplay."

"I don't- whoops! Nice one there, almost didn't see it coming. But yeah, I don't know a lot about swordplay besides what my wife taught me."

His response was a slip of the tongue, "Summer?"

Taiyang suddenly stopped moving around. His guard was still up, but he looked straight at Jaune and smirked upon seeing the boy's reaction.

"No, not Summer. I guess Ruby's been saying things to you," Taiyang resumed movement of his feet, his position shifting around and his eyes scanning for any breaks in his guard.

"It was my first wife: Raven. She was a sword user like you and fought with a katana, although she kept it in this sheath that made it look like a broadsword."

Jaune split-stepped forward and took a quick slash at Taiyang's shoulder; the man nimbly dodged the strike, but was unprepared for Jaune's sudden shield bash. His sword was put up in a clumsy attempt to block, but the force of the bash pushed him back; his footing betrayed him. Taiyang fell on his back and Jaune pounced on him, bringing his sword up with the intent to slash downwards on his head.

This time Taiyang was faster and he let go of his sword, crossing his arms in front of his face in a sturdy block; he let his aura take the brunt of the hit. But in this position and now disarmed, he was at Jaune's mercy.

"Nice play kid, not too bad at all," yielding to Jaune, he took Jaune's hand and pulled himself up, dusting nonexistent dirt off his clothes.

"You were really hesitant all throughout our match, but what strikes you did take were calculated and effective. However, in a real fight, you can't do that. You need to act fast and think even faster, your opponent isn't gonna wait and let you hit them like I did; you have to be more aggressive like you were towards the end. Take advantage of whatever your enemy gives you; our match just now for example: I was talking, probably way too much, and let you get past my defense."

Jaune grunted in acknowledgement. Seeing this, Taiyang nodded and picked up the sword he threw away.

"In short, don't be so scared to strike out and make some big play. I remember Ruby and Yang telling me that you always used to hide behind your shield; now you use your shield as part of your offense. That's good, and it'll lead to good things if you treat your fighting style the same way."

Leaving the boy to his own device, Jaune looked at the man before casting his gaze onto Crocea Mors.

 _Be more aggressive..._

Taking in a deep breath and mentally letting go of his exhaustion, Jaune got into stance.

 _Feet shoulder width apart, opposite foot forward, shield hand up, sword ready to strike._

It was a picture perfect stance of the very same form that _she_ taught him.

 _"Begin."_

Jaune split-stepped before using the momentum to leap back, quickly getting back into stance.

 _Be more aggressive..._

He swung his sword in front of him, slashing the chest of the enemy not seen before him. The wind blocked his strokes, Jaune retreating behind his shield in case of a-

 _No._

Shifting the grip on his shield, he formed a fist underneath it, the pointed end of his shield-sheath facing his enemy. He took a step forward and jabbed the wind twice, his heater shield acting as over sized brass knuckles. The wind, suddenly displaced, shot out in front of the two jabs, white slivers in an otherwise clear space.

It was an act that Yang could be proud of. She taught him a little hand to hand, after all.

Keeping up the momentum, Jaune put his arms back behind him for balance and delivered a heavy weighted kick on his enemy's chest, the flat of his sneakers impacting the wind. Not giving his foe a chance to recover, he took two quick steps forward and brought Crocea Mors straight down on his enemy's throat, imagining the blade piercing the throat of... of...

 _That woman._

That amber eyed bitch.

That amber eyed, smug, black haired _bitch._

Jaune was breathing heavily, his mind remembering his last moments with Pyrrah.

How she professed her love for him, kissed him, and broke his heart all in one go.

How she kissed him so passionately, so desperately.

How she shoved him into a locker right afterwards.

How he witnessed her fight with that woman, while he was in the clouds, peering through the slits of the rocket-locker.

How he was, once again, unable to do anything.

Jaune was growling now, his conscious filled with sorrow, vengeance, and regret all at once. It was a storm of emotions, one Jaune had been weathering for the past few weeks.

"Jaune."

He whipped around, bringing his sword along in a circular slash. His ears heard a sudden yelp; his eyes saw a familiar red.

"R-Ruby," Jaune greeted. "Sorry for... for the thing."

Ruby, who had leapt backwards from the sudden swing, approached cautiously.

"N-no, no, I'm sorry. You were tired, I probably should have waited for you to rest before calling you out. I just came back from my mom's memorial so I saw you here and wanted to see if you wanted to hang out maybe, kinda, sorta, kindasorta," Ruby said the last parts under her breath, prompting a confused look from Jaune.

"I mean, if you want to I can help you-"

"No."

Ruby paused.

"No, I-I mean yea. Just," Jaune sighed heavily, picking himself up from his position on the floor.

"Just let me clean myself up a bit," Jaune gestured to his sweat ridden body, how even his hoodie managed to stick to his chest. Even his armor pieces were wet with the liquid, the metal glistening grossly in the afternoon light.

"Oh! Of course, yea, sure," Ruby took a few steps back, "I can wait. Maybe Nora and Ren'll want to come too!"

Jaune grunted in affirmation before staggering over to the house, Ruby following exactly twenty feet away from him.

Inside, Taiyang had already freshened up and was watching TV. Doctor Oobleck and Professor Port were inside as well, sitting on the dinner table watching as Yang also leaned back against the wall and silently watched along with them.

"I believe this is history in the making Peter! Just look at it! Ships appearing from thin air, one returning back the way it came only to disappear! It is a phenomenon previously unknown to Remnant, one that I absolutely wish I could record and add to my own history books."

"Yes, yes, I'll have to agree with you, Oobleck. And just look at that ship, the one in the center! So different from the rest yet still so imposing! The Americans certainly have a sense of style in their vessels, as unorthodox as they might be in this day and age. How I wish to ride on one of those things, I bet it'd be so smooth compared to a Bullhead."

"That one in the middle is different from the others though," Taiyang observed, "but it flies an American flag. New class, maybe."

"Perhaps so. I remember there being a case study on the geometry of ships and their effect on modern radar systems; it was held at Beacon Academy as a joint project between Atlas and Vale as well as an attempt to cultivate the engineer in our students. It was scrapped, partly because it was so expensive, but mostly because Atlas nor Vale seemed to want the technology. Maybe this ship there is similar."

"Would you say _that_ is geometry, my dear colleague?" Peter pointed out the E-2C Hawkeye in the vicinity. It was a normal looking aircraft, as normal as a foreign design went, but the huge circular dish completely destroyed the look.

"From my limited knowledge on aerodynamics, I don't think the... plate really compromises airworthiness."

"Just another thing to add to the list of things weird with the Americans."

Jaune and Ruby were able to sneak silently past the men, who were so absorbed in the news that they didn't even notice the two idle by right behind them. That didn't mean Yang didn't notice however and she instantly caught on to the pair.

"What are you guy's doing?"

"Jaune's gonna clean himself up and then we're going to town, want to come?"

Yang looked up from Ruby and at the three men currently obsessed with the TV. Her choice was obvious, but delayed due to... other factors.

"Sure," Yang finally responded after a few moments, Jaune having already went ahead.

"Just let me change and we'll go. Go see if Nora and Ren want to come."

"Got it," Ruby gave a thumbs up to her sister before slipping around the corner.

Yang rubbed the stump of her arm gently, it's presence making her choices tentative.

Looking back up, she saw her father's eyes on her; the contact was enough to make her freeze up slightly, before sighing and heading to her room.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Royal Atlesian Navy Air Fleet_

 _Vale-Atlas Defense Fleet_

 _ANV Impenetrable Shield_

 _Time: 1709 (5:10 PM)_

"Should we be worried, James?"

 _"I don't believe we have a reason to worry. They're like us, in a way, Herman. A military-industrial complex born from the need to protect it's people and ever growing empire."_

"There's no proof that we came from an empire, James, that's theoretical history."

 _"Remnant is rich in history, Herman; we don't know all of her secrets. Even now, ruins of civilizations past are being discovered with every incursion into the Grimmlands we send. Lost documents, remains of structures, statues, and monuments; all of those are being found with every incursion we send. It is no doubt that there's still a lot to uncover about prehistoric times. Need I remind you that there were more than just four kingdoms during the Great War?"_

"Yes, other _lesser_ kingdoms. What records we have on them tell us that their culture is _very_ old, that their society is some run down version of the American's democracy -something that we tried and failed to use in our own history -and that their technology predates even the discovery of Dust. It's no wonder they were wiped out during the Great War."

 _"And it's a shame. They existed on this planet for much longer than us, we could have learned much about Remnant before our time."_

"Yes. We could have. But right now, what I believe matters is _now_ ," Herman changed the subject quickly. There was a large fleet holding position right off the doorstep of the Kingdom he was assigned to protect -now liberate- and while he was certain he could defend Vale if need be, he had no idea of the American's tactics other than the little show he got when they first arrived in Vale. And if this fleet was anything like the first one that came, then they would also have enough munitions to level all of Vale.

 _"Like I said, we don't have a reason to worry, Herman. They're just looking out for their own, having come here to rescue a lost fleet and return them home."_

"The implications of the American's presence..."

 _"Are recognized and have already been accounted for by the Council and military heads such as you and I. You know our plans and we have already made contingencies in case things get... complicated with the United States."_

"Yes, I know, we'll become allies, further our relationship, get our social and economic climate on a level that can connect with their world, and then _maybe_ get their help on the Grimm threat. But..."

 _"But what, Herman?"_

"As you said, they're like us in a way. That means they have their own agenda as well," Herman shined a light on the topic mostly kept in the dark. Everyone had an agenda, whether they were a kingdom or a government, or what, they all wanted to advance towards their goals; even if it meant stepping over the little guy.

 _"They're at a logistical choke point, Herman. As far as we know, this... portal is the only way in and out of Remnant. They'll be hard pressed to deliver an effective invasion force in Valean waters."_

"They've already secured this means of entry and exit, James, and they have enough ships and firepower to deliver a large enough invasion force and _support_ them with such a campaign."

 _"From what we are told, they are one of the largest military forces in their world. You and I have seen their combative skills; I will say that I wasn't impressed and I still aren't now. If they're anything like at Beacon, our Hunters should be able to subdue them easily."_

"They're Navy, James, they're like our own air fleet. Not specialized for ground combat and more for running a ship; we haven't seen their dedicated ground troops yet."

 _"They're auraless, meaning Hunters are still heads above them. And we currently still have dominion over Remnant, their twenty or so vessels to our entire air fleet. We could easily destroy their fleets and secure the portal for ourselves, barring entry and exit on both sides. But we won't. What they have to offer is very valuable Herman, it could mean us being free of the Grimm threat once and for all. And if that fails, there's an entire planet full of land-"_

"Already inhabited land," Herman pointed out.

 _"...that we could send our peoples to in case our civilizations fall. And I'm sure, going off their democratic government and peaceful ideals, that they'll accept us with little issue,"_ James finished his statement, causing Herman to cast his eyes away from the screen.

 _"The benefits of peace outweigh that of war, Herman, they always have. I'd rather not have to subject Atlas to a second Great War. You'll continue to hold position in Vale as a way to show them that we still exist as a military force, but try to cooperate with them if they approach. James out."_

The connection terminated, the numerous ships that were acting as relay lines stretching all the way from Atlas to Vale resumed their original speed, wanting to get out of the Grimmlands as fast as possible. Herman leaned back into his chair, rubbing his eyes and feeling a pang of hunger come across him.

Exiting his office, he saluted the sailors who took the time to acknowledge him and began walking to the bridge. Walking along the center of the corridor he was in, he compared the Atlesian vessel's look to that of the Americans.

 _Pristine, clean white against that dull, ugly grey. I'll never fathom why the Americans don't paint their ships more._

Another feeling came into Herman, only this time it wasn't hunger. It was a dark, contemptuous feeling, one born of pride and patriotism.

 _Our airships to their sea vessels..._

Every thought that came to him served to feed this feeling. Herman knew it, but didn't try to stop it.

 _Our kingdom to their nations..._

 _Our world to theirs..._

Herman was scowling now, but continued walking and observing his ship. The clean, white walls, the occasional potted plant, the bright, shining lights. The _Impenetrable Shield_ was a fortress, a vessel created for war. He imagined her serving in the Great War alongside other airships, firing her guns and deploying troops to the ground.

 _Atlas won't yield. I won't let her._

There was a name to this feeling, this intense and fiery emotion. What did the Americans call it in their history books... Ah yes, that's what it was called.

Nationalism.

* * *

 **Nationalism, oh nationalism. How you are both a blessing and a curse!**

 **Late again. Apologies if I got ranks wrong, they're just so complicated in roles and duties that I have extremely simplified them here for purposes of understanding.**

 **First six thousand word chapter. Around 6.2k words here for this story.**

 **Estimated time until next chapter: April 18th**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello all, NicodemusV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Late again. On a totally related note, I just wrote my first essay - _in French!_**

 **Google Translate was not involved... maybe... just for those words I didn't know. It's the truth!**

 **I want to keep this intro note as short as possible so no review response this chapter, my apologies!**

 **I do not own RWBY nor any assets mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 _"Since the birth of man's knowledge and their need to hunt and survive, mankind has known combat. Man has known the act of killing since the dawn of man's intelligence. And their methods of killing have only progressed since then. From the ancient wooden spear, to the medieval steel sword, to the futuristic alloys of today's modern firearm. Subsequently, mankind has also come to know war. War that has ravaged the land; bloodied it, dirtied it, desecrated it all throughout the world. The violence of man's conflicts have always been bloody, they have always been filled with death and now, in hindsight, can be considered civilized savagery. With the birth of man's intelligence came the birth of human ideals. Ideas such as color, race, ethnicity, morality; as long as ideas such as these exist, conflict will always remain a unique trait of man"_

* * *

 _20 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Port of Patch_

 _Time: 1800 (6:00 PM)_

"Those are some big ships."

"Nothing compared to the Atlesians though."

"True, but they're pretty powerful. Did you see them launching missiles at the Nevermores during Beacon? Took out entire groups, ones we just unleashed too."

"Fair enough. I still think that Atlas's could take-"

"Quiet you two!" The two faunus were silenced by their leader. Immediately they shut up, no noise came further from them and the four faunus focused once more on their mission.

It was getting dark now, the sun beginning to sink below the horizon of Remnant's oceans. The _Zumwalt_ had pulled into port over an hour ago and their respective commanders and high ranking officials were meeting to discuss the relief of their forces, their findings of this strange new world, and learning of what went on during their time away from the South China Sea. The ship in question was docked right in front of the four faunus, it's strange and otherworldly design presenting itself to them.

"We all remember the plan?"

"We've only gone over it twenty times, Lucy."

Lucy nodded in approval, but couldn't stop herself from retorting at her subordinate's sass, "I don't want to hear any of that during the mission, Roland. Now, let's go."

The two named faunus made their way down from their hiding spot and stepped into the open lane of the dock. The lights were on and the marine guards were out, the latter being wary of the two but shrugged them off, labeling the pair as two of the many curious inhabitants of Patch who came by to visit and gawk at the newly arrived ship. Their mistake would cost them, sadly.

The two other faunus who had not come out of hiding raised their bows, drawing two arrows silently and aiming it at the marine's heads. Two arrows flew from the bushes, flying fast and silent as they impacted with their heads. The two guards fell with a thud to the ship's hull, their weapons falling around them.

Lucy cringed, hoping that the other guards would not notice the noise they had made. Glancing around, she saw the two other guards fall, the other team having downed their targets silently as well. Waiting a few seconds to listen for any footsteps that indicated the Americans had noticed, she gave the all clear once she was satisfied there were none. Six other faunus then appeared from the shadows, their weapons stowed away on their backs. Nodding to the others, she gestured for them to board the vessel, feet landing on the flight deck of the _Zumwalt_.

The White Fang had boarded the vessel.

Quietly and professionally, they split into one row of four on both sides of the vessel. They ignored the Seahawk latched down on the _Zumwalt's_ flight deck, the helicopter resting quietly on it's pad. Entering the ships's superstructure, they closed the door silently before going off to complete their mission. The two teams worked autonomously, their orders clear.

Capture the _Zumwalt_ and bring it to a White Fang safehouse; failing that, their other set of orders were much more wasteful: sink the vessel.

"I just remembered how suicidal this mission is," Roland whispered.

"Well you're here."

"Yup."

The conversation quieted down as they heard footsteps from around the corner of the ship's tight hallways. Waiting for the right moment to strike, the faunus stacked up against the wall, letting Lucy take this one.

The poor sailor didn't even know what hit him as Lucy stepped out and punched his throat, causing the man to fall to the ground at his sudden cut off from air. Keeping up the momentum, she took out her dagger and stabbed the sailor behind the head, in a spot that was both painless and guaranteed a kill.

"Smooth, but where are we going to hide the body?"

Lucy looked around before visibly grimacing, "We can't. I can't read any of this shit and I don't want to touch anything on this ship without accidentally tripping an alarm. We'll have to move on quickly. Drop him, let's go."

The sailor was already propped up against the wall, his cap put in front of his eyes to make it look as though he was asleep on the job. However, if one looked closely, they'd notice the blood leaking from his head.

The team made their way up a set of stairs, occasionally dropping a sailor here or there. Those times the faunus actually hid the bodies, their minds acclimating to the mood of the vessel and getting used to their mission parameters. They were getting into the zone of yet another wetwork job.

Coming to a door, Lucy futilely read the text before assuming it was some high ranking officer's quarters. Nodding to the others, the team readied their weapons before she opened the door to what she assumed was an officer's room. She was correct.

"What the-" was all the officer could say before an arrow stuck itself in his head. Immediately they set to work hiding the body, stuffing it in a nearby wardrobe before cleaning the blood that had spilled onto his desk.

"Grab whatever looks important, quickly. We need to find the other guards if we want to take this ship."

Roland grabbed a map of the Earth, looking over it quickly before rolling it up and stuffing it inside his satchel. He took himself to the nearby bookcase, his eyes roaming over the titles before settling on one particularly interesting book.

"Lucy."

"What."

Roland turned to his leader and held up the book.

"I can't read that, Roland."

Roland, reminded by this little fact, lost his confidence in his find before making a well educated guess on it's contents.

"It's a manual for the ship. Bet it'll have a map."

"Then find it while we walk out of here, we've spent too much time in this room alone."

Nodding, he opened the book and skimmed through the pages, faunus eyes roaming over the various images before falling on one specific image.

"Found it."

"Good. Where are we right now?"

"Officer's quarters, of course. Since we need to capture the ship, the bridge is... one floor above us. The enlisted quarters are below us and probably hold most of the guards and sailors, but they might also be roaming around."

"We'll go for the bridge first and eliminate any sailors we see on the way. Anything about a conference room?"

Roland skimmed around the book once again, muttering to himself. He stopped yet again at one specific image.

"No conference room, but there's this one room labeled with a pretty ornate bird. I think that's the captain's quarters."

"Alright. Keep the book with us, we'll need it. Move out."

The four faunus moved out of the room, coming face to face with the other faunus team operating in the area.

"Have you tripped any alarms?"

"No ma'am. Humans we came across were eliminated and hidden away. We have located a room with a lot of activity, we assume it's a meeting room of sort.

Lucy glanced sideways at Roland before continuing to speak with her subordinate.

"Are you sure?"

"It was Bruce who told me, ma'am."

At the mentioning of Bruce, Lucy nodded. Bruce was a bat faunus, his particular trait being exquisitely good hearing. If Bruce heard voices, then the guess should be correct.

"We have two of our brothers guarding the door to the room, the guards there were eliminated. With some struggle."

Lucy's eyes narrowed, "What struggle?"

The faunus was unfazed, "The human attempted to fire on us with his weapon while the other attempted to radio for help. We were able to take down the offending guard before he discharged his rifle, but we fear the other may have alerted others before being eliminated."

"Have you run into any other complications?"

"No ma'am."

Lucy sighed, her head down and two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, "Alright. Have your team breach the room while we make our way to the bridge. This ship is pretty small like the others so a majority of the high ranks should be inside. We'll deal with any more guards we encounter."

The faunus nodded before jogging back to the room, Lucy watching him turn the corner.

"Let's go."

Her team climbed yet another set of stairs, Roland guiding them all the while. Taking down another sailor, Roland whispered the last direction.

"Turn left here and we should be at the doors to the bridge."

As the team turned left, Lucy came face to face with another of _Zumwalt's_ marine complement. She attempted to take him down, but the marine was much faster than the others her team had encountered. He quickly punched Lucy in the face before grabbing her shoulder and throwing her behind him to his hidden compatriot, who began attempting to restrain her He then took out his sidearm and fired two quick shots towards the group of now three faunus before going back to his fellow marine.

"Roland take these guys out!" Lucy lost all sense of stealth as she felt the warm barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of her head, the marine trying to restrain her while the other called for backup.

"Irah!"

Wordlessly one of the faunus in the group dashed out, bum rushing the two marines on the other side of the hall. The fox faunus was shot at twice, ignoring the rounds before kicking off one of the walls and tackling the marine with the gun. Another faunus then left Roland's side, going for the marine currently holding down Lucy. He let her ziptied hands go and tried to fight off the faunus' attack, but was knocked onto the floor. A grapple ensued.

"Roland!"

"Got it!" Roland ran forward, quickly cutting the zipties off Lucy before moving to assist his fellow teammates. Grabbing the marine wrestling with Irah and slitting his throat before moving to the other, only to see Lucy already having taken care of him.

"Good work-"

"We're out of time. That fight was loud as Dust and no doubt the bridge crew already heard it. We need to take this ship _immediately_. Stack up team."

The four faunus took positions near the door, Irah setting up the charges around the doors edge.

"You think these'll breach?" Roland remained skeptical of the charges they brought. At best, they'd allow the team to enter. At worst, American materials were weaker than Dust based alloys and they'd have a much larger hole in the ship than they want.

"Let's hope. Breaching in three, two, one..."

The door burst open, opening rapidly outwards and slamming into the walls of the bridge. The team moved in quickly, eyes looking for any disoriented humans before settling down. Lucy was the first to notice.

"They're... already dead?" She looked around, noticing all the sailors and a few officers slumped up against the walls. A lone figure stood in the center, her arms at her side. She disappeared once Lucy's eyes landed on her, but reappeared a moment later.

"You guys are late. Had some trouble with this."

"You're supposed to be with the team down at the meeting room Bruce identified," Lucy accused the woman. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion before the woman spoke once again.

"He sent me up here earlier, to find the bridge and await further orders. Once I heard the fight though, I slipped in and made my moves."

"How did you even get in?"

"There's more than one door, you know," the woman said pointedly. "I'll be returning to the meeting room, last I remember Mahin had some high ranking officers kept hostage in there. I think one of them's the Admiral in charge of the fleet."

That got her team's attention, "The one near Vale or the one here?"

"The one here."

"Good. Good stroke of luck we have here. Go back, we'll get the controls up to chop and get this ship out of here. No doubt some response force is already on the way."

"Don't jinx us-"

 _BOOM_

. . .

Roland snickered, "You just had to mention it."

"Shut up! What was that explosion?"

Irah went up to one of the window panes before punching through it and sticking his head out. His eyes went to the back of the ship, noticing the billowing clouds of smoke coming from the rear.

"Someone set something off," was all he said, his head still outside. "And it's a big one."

"I don't think we'll be able to sail this thing out of here anymore."

"No, I don't think so either. Switch to plan B. We're sinking this hunk o' junk."

The other faunus in the room nodded before exiting the bridge. Stepping over the bodies of the marines they had taken out, the four went to work setting up charges around the ship.

"Move quickly! I doubt we killed all the guards and crew and a hunter team is no doubt on it's way too; I'll be going to the meeting room to talk with our human guests, see if we can get something from them before having them go down with the ship."

"Can't we just leave them there and sink this thing with 'em?"

"That's the plan. Now move!"

* * *

Admiral John H. Carter sat quietly, his eyes on the apparent White Fang member in front of him.

Captain James A. Kirk also sat next to him, eyes staring distastefully at the faunus lounging in front of him.

Captain Henry Callaghan was, fortunately, not present in the room. He was safe back in the _Enterprise_ _,_ monitoring the situation with CSG 5 near the coast of Vale. No doubt a response team was already on the way from _Enterprise_ and the other vessels.

The two present, along with their respective senior staff, were having a polite, civil discussion on what they had missed while they were gone along with how CSG 11 would be relieved of her current duty from Remnant. John was regaling James with the events that had occurred since his group had arrived. From Beacon to Ironwood to Patch, everything up until the arrival of CSG 5. James was becoming more and more impressed with this world as John told him everything he knew. Even the more unsavory parts such as the treatment of Faunus fascinated him; racial issues existed even within alien societies.

He was now experiencing these racial issues first hand with the help of the White Fang.

James looked mournfully at the four marine guards who remained slumped up against the wall, blood dripping down their once pristine uniforms. They fought valiantly against the group of faunus but ultimately were taken down by the element of surprise and... Aura. He still remembered the face one of the faunus wore once he was shot by one of the marine's rifles. The faunus visibly cringed at the round, but remained unharmed.

 _Aura... what an unfair device._

The door opened. Much to the American's distaste, it was not a friendly face. She received nods of acknowledgement from the other faunus, stepping aside as to allow her passage to the officers. She looked at them pitifully, almost as if she cared about their plight, before breaking into a sneer and giving a small chuckle.

"Which one of you is the highest ranking officer?"

Her eyes roamed among the men's uniforms, inspecting and scrutinizing every inch of it like a drill instructor hazing a fresh recruit. When no one spoke, she remained neutral but instead took a different route.

"So no one wants to talk? Since you officers aren't like the Atlesians in terms of dress, since you're wearing camo instead of a suit covered with medals, I'll just assume it's the one who looks the oldest."

Her eyes fell on John. The aging Admiral didn't flinch at her gaze, his eyes remaining firm and resolute in the face of terror.

Walking up to him, she stood directly in front and looked down, "You got some gray hairs, old man. I'm guessing you're... the Fleet Admiral? And that guy next to you's probably the Captain."

Neither man responded to her guesses. The room was quiet. The faunus woman looked around the Americans, uncomfortable with the silence.

"Well, lemme introduce myself. I am Lucy Marronc. In case you all haven't guessed yet, we're the White Fang. What you probably haven't guessed is why we're here."

A few of the American staff shifted.

"Well, we originally wanted to capture this fancy little ship of yours. But since that failed due to some huge ass explosion in the back, we'll just have to go another way. What that way is... well," Lucy paused for some dramatics.

"You're just going to have to find out."

The door opened again. It was Roland.

"We've finished."

Lucy smiled, "Good. You three, get the Fleet Admiral and the Captain. The rest I don't care what you do. We're bugging out."

Three faunus moved forward and grabbed John and James. Making sure their hands were still tied, they pushed them out the door, knocking them out on the way. Lucy turned back to the rest of the Americans.

"I didn't really get to speak with you all a lot, but it was nice talking. Ta-ta~"

She reached into Roland's satchel and retrieved a square charge.

"A little parting gift, from the White Fang to you."

She threw an explosive charge in the middle of the room and closed the door. The men looked at it in horror as the timer counted down. As Lucy walked away from the closed door, Roland looked at her oddly.

 _Roman's rubbed off on her._

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Downtown Patch_

 _Time: 1830 (6:30 PM)_

It was another cool evening in Patch.

Shops were still open, people milled about, talking about their lives and the news and Beacon. The lights of the streets and the food carts gave the city that busy city feeling.

Ruby sat on a bench, licking her ice cream while she waited for Jaune inside the blacksmith. The group of friends had simmered down to two, as Ren, Nora, and Yang went home around an hour ago, tired from walking and eating.

The door opened, a bell ringing signaling someone exiting the shop.

"So how do you like it Jaune?"

"He's a good smith," Jaune responded, admiring his shield. Ruby looked downwards before noticing what adorned the heater at the bottom. She silently nodded in approval.

Jaune picked up the shield and admired it himself. He smiled sadly.

"What's wrong-"

"Do you think I did the right thing?"

Jaune's tone had changed from upbeat about his shield, to questionable.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, is it right that I welded her tiara to my shield? Am I disrespecting her this way? Am I desecrating her memory by doing this?"

Ruby stopped licking her ice cream, "Jaune... This is what Pyrrah would've wanted."

The young man remained silent.

"By welding her tiara to your shield, you guys stay together... in a way. When you raise your shield, you'll raise it in her memory."

Jaune looked at his shield once more before turning it back into a sheath and sheathing Crocea Mors. The blacksmith was skillful enough to retain the shield's folding function while adding in Pyrrah's tiara. He nodded in agreement.

With his weapons stowed away, the pair started walking back home. Ruby returned Jaune's ice cream, swearing that she didn't steal a lick while he was inside the shop.

"So how long have you known Indy?" Jaune suddenly asked.

"O-oh, uhh, ever since I first ran out of ammo for Crescent Rose. He was the only one in town that sold my type of ammunition for cheap and the only one with a reliable whetstone."

"You don't know how to sharpen blades?"

Ruby stopped walking, face aghast at what her friend just said.

"Of course I do! I just sometimes don't have the time for it..."

Jaune caught on immediately, "You're too lazy to take the time to sharpen Crescent Rose."

"Wha- n-no, of course not, I am not lazy enough not to take the time to sharpen Crescent Rose. In f-fact, I sharpen my baby e-every week."

Amused by her stammering, Jaune smirked.

"Excuses."

Ruby gave up," It's hard okay! It's hard to properly sharpen Crescent Rose! Unlike your little sword there, Crescent Rose is a complex work of art with a state of the art blade fashioned with multiple..."

As Ruby spouted off the intricacies of her weapon, Jaune continued licking his ice cream, walking forward as she followed behind him. The two reached a cross walk, Jaune stopping Ruby from entering into the flow of cars.

"What I'm saying is, Crescent Rose has a blade a thousand times more complicated than Crocea Mors."

"It's a family heirloom!"

"It's a parring knife compared to my baby," Ruby held Crescent Rose dearly to her self, wiping off nonexistent dust and polishing the dust alloys with her cloak.

"Alright, I concede. Point established."

Ruby huffed in achievement, popping the last of her ice cream cone into her mouth. The light turned green for the road parallel to them, the crosswalk light subsequently turning white. Traffic rushed by beside them, cars and trucks on their evening commute, pushing the economy of Vale forward. People walked and talked, about their day and their lives; how this store had a sale, how this cafe was just opened - life as normal in Vale.

The familiar blades of a Seahawk flew over the city, carrying a team of five marines. Three other Seahawks followed behind the first one, their blades beating the air furiously.

Jaune and Ruby watched the oddly shaped craft fly over, noting the amount of them and their direction: towards the port.

"The Americans don't normally fly their helicopters over Patch right? It's always out over the sea..."

Jaune nodded in confirmation, "Yeah, they just patrol with those screamers from the biggest ship in their group."

"Wonder what it is this time-"

An explosion was heard from the direction of the port. Jaune and Ruby turned their heads towards the sound.

"I think that answers it."

"Yep."

The pair stood on the street corner, unsure of what to do.

"Should we...?" Ruby questioned, pulling out her Scroll.

"We should..." Jaune's hand rested on the hilt of Crocea Mors.

The pair began running towards the dock; Ruby sent a message to Ren and Nora asking for their help. She received a single message in reply from Ren.

 _"On the way."_

Ruby's fingers moved to contact her sister, but Jaune stopped her. She looked up at him. He shook his head.

Putting away her Scroll, the two teens began their sprint to the docks.

* * *

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Port of Patch_

 _Time: 1850 (6:50 PM)_

Gunfire ruled the dock where the _Zumwalt_ was docked. As a second Seahawk landed some ways away deploying it's cargo of marines, the American sailors and marines that had already arrived kept the White Fang team busy with their rifles. The White Fang took cover behind some crates - where the Admiral and Captain were being held was unknown to the Americans. Therefore, they were being selective with their shots, especially the remaining sailors of the _Zumwalt_. No one wanted to accidentally shoot a superior officer.

Roland yelled over the noise. Lucy tried her best to hear, but American rifles were louder than their Remnant counterparts. The supersonic _crack_ of the guns dominated the sound waves, inadvertently negating the superior hearing advantage the Faunus possessed. Lucy yelled back.

"What?!"

A single lull in the fire was enough to get Roland's message through.

"We have ten minutes before those charges blow!"

She understood and went back to firing on the Americans, but as soon as she popped her head out to fire, over dozens of rounds impacted her cover. The sailors, inexperienced with firearms as they were compared to the marines, were doing their part in taking out as many Faunus as they could. Lucy cursed before sprinting out of her cover, a few rounds impacting her side. She winced at the bullets hitting her aura, having faded rapidly with the shots.

"These things sting!"

"Tell me about it!"

Roland fired off a few shots at a group of sailors attempting to push up. They retreated immediately at the Dust rounds impacting; one sailor was unlucky enough to have tripped. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Those charges," Roland said in between bursts of gunfire, "are meant to stand up to Atlesian military-grade Dust reinforced alloys. That ship doesn't have bulkheads nearly as thick as an Atlesian airship."

"Your point?!"

Roland crouched back to reload his weapon, but turned to Lucy before inserting the magazine.

"We'll be caught in the blast. If any of us are within two hundred feet of this ship when it blows, we'll die. Notwithstanding the staff left inside the ship. We need to wrap up this fight."

Lucy nodded in affirmation. Out of the corner of her eye, a fellow Fang member rose to fire, only to fall as she was riddled with bullets moments after standing. Her aura shattered underneath the onslaught of supersonic rounds, the rest impacting her chest and head. Another Faunus fell, outside of Lucy's vision. But she didn't need to look. His grenade detonating in the strip of concrete between the two forces; his body was charred and burning.

Yelling with all her might, Lucy rallied the Faunus closest to her position.

"You six! We're going to push on the right; you two and Roland will provide covering fire while you four will break through on their right!"

The mentioned Faunus looked uneasy at her orders. Seeing two comrades fall so mercilessly shook their confidence.

 _Newbies..._ Lucy inwardly groaned at their visible apprehensiveness.

"Look! This is just another Beacon! You were all there, right?! You all fought, right?! So we'll get out of this together! Now,"

She pushed them into position, she herself getting ready to charge.

 _I hope the others catch onto what we're doing._

"Charge!"

The group ran forward, firing their rifles at the Americans and forcing them behind cover. Roland and his team kept them at bay, focusing on the marines and grouped up sailors. As Lucy broke through the lines and got into melee range, the Fang showed their true skills. Lucy took out her dagger, rushing the group of blue camoed sailors and incapacitating them. The rest of the Fang broke their positions and surged through the breach that Lucy opened up, overwhelming the marines and sailors with the volume of firepower they launched towards them. Within a minute the gunfire ceased; about sixteen Faunus lay dead on the dock, their bodies unmoving.

Lucy took in the scene, mentally accounting the dead.

 _We lost almost a third of our original force... no matter, the propaganda dude can just edit the numbers._

Roland tapped her on her shoulder, "We gotta move, charges should be blowing in about-"

He was interrupted as the ship behind them exploded. The charges were strategically placed so that the ship would begin flooding immediately after detonation. The charges, meant for thick, Dust reinforced bulkheads, was complete overkill for the soft American vessel. Large holes were visible on the sides of the hull, with smoke rising from the helicopter deck. Locations of holes under the waterline were obvious with the amount of seawater rushing into fill the empty spaces of the ship, flooding compartments and destroying open electronics. A large pore was visible near the ammunition racks, black smoke rising into the sky.

"-just now," Roland smiled at his team's handiwork. The human vessel was beyond repair - although the area where it was docked in was shallow, only the large wheelhouse would be visible. Salvage teams would have to cut into the hull itself, further damaging the ship.

Lucy looked on grimly as smoke and flames rose into the evening sky. Two black, indiscriminate trucks arrived on the scene, their spaces

"Alright. Load up folks, we need to get out of here. Get the American officers in the truck and we're in the clear."

The Faunus moved out, collecting the masks and weapons of their fallen brothers and sisters. A pair of Faunus went to drag the American officers out of cover, their crate relatively unharmed from the blast.

 _"Agh!"_

Lucy turned her head towards the sound, eyes falling on the Americans strangling the Faunus sent to get them. They had their arms locked around their necks in a chokehold, cutting off the White Fang member's air and slowly walking back from the group. Their faces were hard, the younger one doubly so.

"How did they get free?!"

The White Fang looked at each other, murmurs erupting.

 _Bunch of ingrates..._

"Jus-Just get them!"

Spurred by their leader's command and ferocity, the closest Faunus to the Americans began walking forward, gun raised. The rest followed suit.

One of the Americans kicked the Faunus he was strangling away from him, grabbing his weapon as he fell. He fired and dove behind a crate, his superior doing the same. Their shots went wild, the two not used to the lack of recoil from the guns. One of the Fang members then rushed forward, his gun firing on the Americans. He absorbed the shots fired at him before leaping over a crate and aiming at the younger officer.

He fell, his weapon falling out of his hands. He did not get up again, sparks crawling across his skin.

Another Faunus fell, her body convulsing in electricity. Two more fell to the ground from an unseen force; by now, Lucy was both confused and pissed off that her men were going down so indiscriminately.

 _It's obviously a sniper, but it's too quiet to be American..._

Another shot rang out, impacting the space behind her head. Lucy had dodged at the last moment.

A red barrel poked out from behind a bush, a wisp of smoke rising up.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello everyone, NicodemusV here with another chapter for** ** _The New World_** **.**

 **Been a while since the last update, huh? Left you all behind on a very interesting plot point; we'll be feeling the aftereffects of this event for a while, I'll guarantee you all that.**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **rm928 - True, we don't have enough of the** ** _Zumwalt class_** **. An amazing piece of technology and capabilities bogged down by overbearing military requirements and cost overruns.**

 **MOAB Menagerie - There is a clear distinction between White Fang and regular Faunus, but we'll definitely be seeing the effects of their actions in both worlds.**

 **DYWF - Ahaha, yeah. People tend to underestimate humanity and the competency of real-world governments and militaries.**

 **Going to cut this intro note off here, don't want it to be half the world count.**

 **I do not own RWBY nor any assets mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 _"Terrorism. A noun. Defined as the unlawful use of violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims. Often, groups are formed that use this method in order to pursue their goals. The White Fang and ISIS are the two foremost examples that come to mind. Yet there are clear differences between the two. One was born from the desire for equality, for equal standing in the world of Remnant. The other born from the false promises of Western powers, Western interference, and religious beliefs. Two groups both so different yet so similar in devotion to their goals. To solve the problems that these two groups face is no easy task. It takes time and it takes a mutual understanding of the other. The only solution, the righteous solution, lies with our youth. They are the new generation. Untainted with the prejudice of the old generation. Allowing them to be stained is allowing another chance at peace to be passed._

 _Do not let them be stained."_

* * *

 _20 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Port of Patch_

 _Time: 1850 (6:50 PM)_

"Damn- I mean, dang it!"

"It's fine Ruby. You got most of them."

Ruby groaned, but did not pull her face away from the scope. She continued taking shots at the White Fang, who had recovered from the surprise attack and went for cover. Jaune nodded to Ren and Nora, who were waiting for their cue. Nora smiled.

"Nora, let's space them out."

"Got it, fearless leader!"

Nora got up and took aim, her weapon in it's rotary grenade launcher form. She fired three shots, aiming for the White Fang's cover behind crates.

 _BOOM_

 _BOOM_

 _BOOM_

The resulting explosions knocked the White Fang members away from their cover, splitting them into three distinct groups, all with some distance away from each other.

"Ren."

Ren moved forward, engaging the farthest group of Fang Faunus away from their position. Nora moved in next, followed by Ruby, then Jaune.

By the time Jaune got down, the sound of gunfire and weapons clashing was prevalent. Jaune dashed forward, running for the two American officers hiding behind the crates, unable to move with all the hectic combat around them. Their weapons were out, but they did not fire.

 _Just have to secure the officers and guard them until Ruby and the others finish with the Fang._

A simple enough goal. Unfortunately for Jaune, a certain Faunus was captivated by his mad dash for the Americans. She drew her daggers, stepping front of Jaune.

She smiled, flashing her teeth and blades, "Hey-y Blondie. Where are you going?"

Jaune didn't respond. He immediately went in for a downwards slash with his sword.

 _Whoosh_

Her daggers came up in an X, effectively blocking his sword. She raised a leg and kicked him in the stomach, forcing Jaune back.

"Let's play for a bit"

Jaune stepped forward, lunging at her stomach. She expertly dodged, sidestepping the blade. Her left dagger went in for a slash on Jaune's face, but he recovered from the lunge and brought his shield up just in time for the weapon to clang on the twin crescents. Copying her move from earlier and putting some of his training to use, Jaune brought his shield away and raised his leg. He kicked her flat on the chest, knocking her down. She rolled with her fall, springing back up and back into stance.

Breathing hard a bit, she taunted Jaune, "You've got a bit of kick. But do you have a bite?"

She ran forward again, going for the young huntsmans' face. Jaune sidestepped the swipe, but her left arm caught onto his neck. Pushing as much as she could with her arm, the Faunus brought the knight down on his back. She straddled him.

"Come on, you gotta be quicker than that!"

She began stabbing at Jaune's face, each blade shining white as they came straight down on Jaune, the knight frantically dodging each one. Not wanting to be in such an awkward and dangerous position, he grabbed her arm and push it to the right, causing her to fall onto his chest.

"You have to at least take me on a dat-," Jaune put his hand over her mouth, his other arm wrapping itself around her neck. He forced his way up, ignoring the frantic but weak stabs that she was inflicting on him, allowing his aura to take the brunt of the damage. Then, he leaned into her ear, speaking for the first time since engaging in their fight. His voice was like a breeze on a silent night.

"Your aura won't help you here."

He tightened his hold on her neck. She tried biting his hands, licking them even, but Jaune stayed strong. He could feel her struggles slowly dying, feel her pulse increasing rapidly in an attempt to circulate more air throughout the body.

She was suffocating.

In a desperate attempt, she brought both of her arms up and stabbed them at his hand covering her mouth.

"Agh!"

His hand released, a small dot of blood appearing from where the very tip of the blade pierced his aura. She took her blades again and stabbed them against his arm. They struck, but instead of readying another strike, she continued to push the blade into his arm. She intended to pierce his aura through brute strength.

Jaune released her, pushing her away. He grabbed his sword and shield, getting into stance quickly. He examined his arm, checking for any wounds or bleeding.

"Alright," the Faunus woman rasped out. Her breaths were ragged, but controlled - barely. "I'm done playing around. You've got bite, but now I have to bite back."

She drew up her daggers and _attacked_.

Before Jaune could even register that she attacked, her feet were already on his shield, the boot clanging against the alloy. Somehow, he was able to raise it before her feet struck his face. But it wasn't over.

Grabbing onto the top edge, she vaulted herself over him, her dagger dropping fast down onto his head.

 _Clang!_

Crocea Mors came up in a quick parry. But it was sloppy. Jaune stumbled back, the Faunus stepping back into stance. She no longer smiled, but kept her blades up. Her eyes screamed rage.

"I am Lucy," was all she said before stepping again.

She reappeared inches in front of Jaune's face, both of her blades coming straight for his head. Jaune could tell every minute detail about the woman in front of him, specifically her daggers. They were held in a reverse grip, her arms cocked back as though she was gonna deliver a swift hook right to his face. But they were lower than he expected.

They were in line with his neck.

As fast as he could, Jaune _dropped_. It was sloppy, uncontrolled, and most importantly it was _too slow_.

The blades connected with his temples. Immediately, stars burst in his vision. He stumbled back, the grip on his blade and shield loosening, but not letting go. Through some miracle, Jaune was still capable of cognitive thought.

 _She's fast! I can't get hit like that again, I'll be down for the count for sure._

Lucy stepped forward, not letting Jaune recover fast enough. Her foot came down on his, flattening it against the ground. The sound of his ankle cracking was audible in the ambient noise of combat. Lucy smiled. She went for his other foot, the limb coming down quick, intending to crush his other ankle, rendering him immobile, incapacitated, effectively taken out of the fight, dea-.

A shot rang out.

It struck the Faunus on her shoulder, throwing her away from Jaune.

Jaune knew a chance when he saw one and he sure as hell didn't want to miss this one. He leapt up, ignoring the brutal pain in his ankle, and swiped downward on Lucy's figure. His blade struck her aura, the ancient alloys sparking against the protection of the soul. Keeping up the momentum, he struck her again on the head, dropping it savagely to the floor. But Lucy refused to be knocked out.

She kicked him, knocking him back enough for her to get up. Her head still rung from the strike that Jaune inflicted. In her eyes, her blades came up in sloppy slashes and stabs. Jaune easily dodged and parried each one before putting in a strike of his own. Too slow and too incapacitated from the blow, yet _another_ strike to her head came, impacting her temple. Her body flew back, her head face-down on the ground.

Something changed.

It was like her body suddenly pulsed with color. It pulsed brightly, desperately, before ebbing away.

Her aura broke. And it seems she realized it too.

For Jaune, something changed as well. His irises glowed a cold cyan color, filled with determination and strength. In Jaune's eyes, he suddenly saw a multitude of figures, all of him, made of a transparent blue material. Like a hologram of sorts. They were all seen around Lucy, all striking her in various ways.

Ways that would kill.

One stuck out in particular.

It was Jaune, Crocea Mors in hand and shield back into sheath form, standing over Lucy. He had both of his hands on the grip, the sword held tightly, aimed downwards on Lucy's head.

It came down on her. Swift. Brutal. Cold. Jaune blinked, trying to rid the sights from his vision.

He blinked again.

And suddenly he was standing over Lucy, Crocea Mors gripped tightly in his hands. Unregisterable to him, they were shaking.

A hand touched Jaune on the shoulder. The knight cried out, swiping with his sword, but his "assailant" jumped out of the way quickly before yelling out at him.

"Jaune!"

It was Ruby. She slowly walked forward, speaking to him softly.

"Jaune, it's ok. The fight's over. We got the Americans."

All throughout the time she was walking, Jaune was seeing hallucinations. Holograms of him surrounding Ruby, his sword drawn in combat. All of them depicting him attacking Ruby in various ways, sometimes brutally, sometimes quickly, and all the times deadly. He blinked. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It lightly shook him.

"Jaune, we're ok."

It took a second for him to realize that Ruby's hand had forced down Crocea Mors and that it was keeping his hand pinned against his side. He relaxed, loosening his grip on the blade. Ruby didn't let go.

The visions disappeared.

"Y-yeah," he shakily replied. "We got it. I-is everyone ok?"

Ruby kept her voice soft, "Everyone's alright. The Americans are with Ren and Nora."

Jaune looked back behind her. Standing together with the American officers were Ren and Nora, their weapons stowed away. But what was that behind them? Jaune squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. A voice pierced the silence.

 _"Die human scum!"_

Two shots rang out before the Faunus was suddenly silenced. Ren had drawn one of his machine-pistols and had shot the Faunus on the head. He collapsed instantly.

But so did Admiral Carter.

* * *

 _20 September 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Port of Patch_

 _Time: 1910 (7:05 PM)_

 _Thump thump thump thump thump_

The blades of the _Seahawk_ were deafening as they propelled the nimble craft through the skies. Below the aircraft lied the town of Patch, it's people and nightlife in full swing. They looked up upon hearing the blades whooshing, not used to the craft being so close to the city rooftops. Three _Seahawks_ flew over, it's cargo of marines and corpsmen on the way to where the _Zumwalt_ was docked.

Most of the marines were apprehensive. The last group sent to secure the _Zumwalt_ got annihilated by an aura user in the opposing force. She supposedly charged forward, _ignoring_ their bullets, and ruptured the marines' defensive line in melee combat. That was all it took for the rest of the Fang to rush the line and kill them all. This time, they were more prepared. Along with their standard equipment, at least one marine in each _Seahawk_ had .50 caliber M2SM (Soft Mount) Browning MG. They weren't taking any chances this time.

 _"Looks like you boys are in luck,"_ the pilot voiced to the marines in his hold, _"the fight's over down there. Seems like some Huntsmen came and cleaned 'em up for you."_

True to the pilot's word, the fight was indeed over. The dead bodies of both the White Fang and their fallen brothers and sisters in arms lied still on the concrete. Four hunters, noted by their brightly colored clothes, were at the scene, along with two American officers in their NWUs.

One was down.

"You're up corpsman," a voice and a push came from someone behind him.

Charlie Wickerson leaped off the _Seahawk_ as soon as it was safe for him to do so. His M4A1 was held in a deathgrip against his chest, his mind wary of a hostile aura-user still in the field. But his mind returned right back to it's training once he saw the Admiral down on the ground.

"Corpsman, over here!" The other officer shouted for him, waving his hand. Charlie sprinted over, sliding to a stop on his knee. Instantly, he had his kit out, checking over the admiral and being careful not to aggravate any wounds.

"What happened to him?" Charlie queried while checking the older man. He flipped him around and felt around his back, his fingers reaching a wet spot. Looking down, he spotted the cause. Two gunshots to the left of the lower back, right on his left flank. Flipping him carefully around again, he ripped open the man's shirt and searched for any exit wound. There were none.

"He was shot by a Fang member we thought we had knocked out," the man with the pink stripe in his hair explained. "We were preparing to run him to the nearest hospital."

"Alright," Charlie took out a wrap of sterile dressing and bandages. Covering the two openings with the dressing and wrapping his abdomen with the bandages, he gestured for their help in lifting the man up. "Help me out here. Need to get him to the heli for immediate MEDEVAC."

Slinging the man's arm over his shoulders, Charlie and the other officer carried the admiral to the waiting helicopter, it's blades still running. Laying the man down gently, he was about to tell the pilot to step on it before a voice stopped him. It was high pitched and feminine, very familiar in tone.

"Wait!" Ruby and another guy came sprinting towards the heli, jumping onboard before the craft could lift off.

"What are you guys doing here?" Charlie half-yelled at the two. By then, the _Seawhawk_ was already in the air, it's body turning in the direction of the _Enterprise_.

"I appreciate your help, but you've done your part," the American officer interjected. Charlie quickly read his rank and name tag. Captain James A. Kirk. "Let us deal with the next part." He tried to smile, but with his face marked with soot and sweat, it was unconvincing.

"But we're here to-" Jaune interrupted Ruby, declaring firmly, "We're here as a safety net. In case he doesn't make it," he gestured to Admiral Carter.

Jaune's words made Charlie kneel down and check over the admiral again, trying to look for any changes in his condition. He found one. Charlie looked up at Jaune.

"His pulse is slowing down. Fast." He turned over to the pilot and yelled, "How much longer 'til we get to the _Enterprise_?!"

 _"Fifteen minutes, goin' as fast as I can 'ere."_

Captain Kirk stared out the open side-door, his face marked with a knowing look. Even the cockpit was silent, the radio traffic a muffled noise in comparison to the events in the cabin right now.

"Shit," Charlie cursed quietly to himself, before taking more items out of his kit in an attempt to stabilize the man. His pulse continued to slow down, his bleeding doing the exact opposite. Unwrapping the medical blanket covering the man, Charlie took out the dressing and replaced it, making sure to disinfect the area before covering it again. The man's breathing was shallow, his eyes closed and mind unconscious. Feeling his pulse again, Charlie almost died himself when he felt it even weaker than before, with a rate higher than ever. Peeking into the bandages, his fears were confirmed.

"He has internal bleeding."

Turning to the pilot again, Charlie made another request.

"Route us to the nearest ship!"

The _Seahawk_ didn't change course. Almost thirty seconds later, the Captain got up and yelled towards the pilot.

"That's an order, pilot!"

The _Seahawk_ tilted to the right, it's occupants grabbing onto the handrails to keep steady. Charlie sat back, face deep in thinking. He sighed. The Captain returned to staring out the side-door. The look on his face couldn't be seen against the shine of the moon.

Ruby and Jaune simply sat there, taking it all in. Both of the teens were having an internal dilemma, being so unused to being completely _useless_ in such a dire situation.

"You two," the Captain's voice brought them out of their thoughts. "You said you were here as a safety net. What did you mean by that?"

It looked as though Jaune was going to answer, but he stopped himself before he could, mind still trying to come to terms with what he would do. Ruby picked it up for him.

"We were going to unlock his Aura if he didn't- if there was no time." Ruby stopped herself from saying the grim possibility.

"His Aura? What will that do for him?"

"It'll probably calm down his body enough so that you can get him to the nearest ship."

James turned back towards the inside of the cabin, his face deep in thought. After a moment or two, he made his decision.

"Do it."

Ruby looked confused. "Do what-"

"Unlock his aura, of course!" James yelled at the girl before realizing what he said. He apologized softly afterwards.

"But we don't even know if he has aura? Besides that, if something goes wrong-"

"Then it's a chance we'll have to take," the Captain declared. Ruby looked at him exasperatedly before turning to Jaune.

"Jaune, you have the larger aura reserves between us," she dragged him down to the Admiral's level before sitting back in her seat, "You do it."

The blonde knight looked nervous. "I don't even know the phrases though."

"Then just make one up," Ruby quickly deferred back to him. Then, as if to reassure Jaune on what he was about to do, "It'll come naturally."

 _"Three minutes out, hold on back there."_

Jaune turned back to the Admiral, gently laying his right hand down on the man's chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what Pyrrah said when she unlocked his aura back during Initiation.

 _What did she say... It started like "For when we pass, we achieve immortality..." No, that's not it._

Opening his eyes, Jaune growled in frustration, annoyed that he couldn't remember the words of possibly the most significant event in his life. He was about to retry the process until the man suddenly started convulsing, his body shaking fiercely. The Admiral's eyes were open, staring right up at the ceiling, his breathing fast and shallow.

"He's having a seizure!" Charlie shouted out, the young corpsman getting up to attend to the Admiral. But at the same time, Jaune was seemingly forced back into the activation process, his eyes closed and his breathing calm despite the violent movements the older man beneath him was making.

Resting his right hand on the man's chest again, Jaune thought he felt another person's hand on his own.

 _Pyrrah._

And the rest came naturally.

"For it is in passing..."

 _"That we achieve immortality..."_

"Through this, we become a pinnacle..."

 _"Of righteousness and honor..."_

"Eternal in distance..."

 _"And unbound by annihilation..."_

"I liberate your soul..."

 _"And by my bearing..."_

Jaune's eyes opened, his irises a glowing cerulean.

"Defend thee."

. . .

The Admiral's seizure had ceased, his breathing a calm inhale-exhale process; much like one would when sleeping. His body was outlined in a soft but radiant tinge of dark blue, the light slowly growing brighter as the moments passed before it reached it's apex. Then suddenly, it disappeared. Charlie knelt down and roved over the man once again, checking his pulse and the open gunshot wounds.

"His pulse is slowing down... a lot stronger than before now... no discolorations, internal bleeding must've stopped... damn," Charlie looked up at Jaune, the young knight leaning back in his seat, "He's alright for now. We still need to get him to a proper medical facility to treat his wounds and run an ultrasound for any possible organs rupturing..." The young corpsman began muttering to himself what would be needed to bring the Admiral back to health, speaking on operations and procedures much higher than a Navy corpsman would need to know.

Captain Kirk took off his cover, wiping the slight sheen of sweat off his forehead. "Lord have mercy..." He turned to the two hunters-in-training, "Good work you two. I'll see to it that you're on the next flight out of here, back to wherever you two live."

The two teens silently nodded, looking out the side-door to the port below. Down at sea-level, several US Navy destroyers and cruisers were docked, the _Enterprise_ and a few of her escorts surrounding her not too far away from the port central. CSG 5 floated near her newer sister, the airspace around the two a flurry of activity.

The _Seahawk_ slowed down around a docked _Arleigh-Burke class destroyer_. Near the helipad, a contingent of corpsmen and medical staff were standing at the ready, a stretcher between two of them. As soon as the helicopter touched down, the stretcher bearers sprinted forward - Charlie and the Captain lifted the Admiral onto the stretcher before sending the corpsmen back into the ship's insides.

"Charlie-"

"What?" the man sounded slightly annoyed.

"His aura's been unlocked, so he should be ok. Don't worry if stuff starts randomly regenerating or something like that."

Charlie took this into consideration following the other staff back inside the ship. "Thanks Ruby."

"No problem."

James' face perked up at the mention of her name, realizing that he hadn't introduced himself or the identity of his saviors.

"I'm sorry," he began, gaining the attention of the two. "I haven't properly introduced myself. Captain James A. Kirk, of the US Navy."

"Jaune Arc."

"Ruby Rose."

James looked towards Ruby, some recognition evident on his face.

"Ruby Rose... Admiral Carter mentioned you while we were talking."

"Really?! What did he say?"

James smiled to himself, "We-ell, I won't say too much. Except that you had some really tall tale that he couldn't believe."

"What?!"

"Yeah, that you were the daughter of some woman from our planet and that you needed to meet with her somehow. That he was considering it-"

"He is?!"

"-and dropping the whole thing without a word. Better things to worry about, I suppose..."

"Oh..."

James noticed her crestfallen look and felt some amount of guilt for her. _They did save our lives..._

"Alright kid, look. Maybe the Admiral said he was dropping it, but at the same time that could just be him talking. Clearly," he gestured around him, "there's some more pressing matters at hand."

Ruby pouted.

"Bu-ut, since you saved our lives, it might earn you some favor with the Admiral. Now, I'm just a Captain and I don't really hold a lot of sway, but if the Admiral realizes what you two did for him, then, if what I hear about him is right, he'll do what he can do to get you to meet your mom."

"Seriously?! Oh, thank you, thank you-" Ruby went in for a hug, something that was becoming more instinctual nowadays, but the Captain stopped her with an arm.

"That's a big _if_ , young lady," James reminded her firmly, "There's a lot that he needs to bypass if you want to see your mother within even a _year_. Government red tape, foreign relations, medical quarantine policies - all that stuff the Admiral has to jump over."

Ruby wasn't discouraged by this. She heard about enough politics and government thingamajigs from Weiss to know what she was asking.

"That's alright. I just like the reassurance that I can see my mom soon."

James scoffed, "You're not the only one, girl."

Then his tone and posture suddenly changed, some better optimism coming from him. "Even if he doesn't get you special access, you'll still be able to see your mom. If our government gets off their asses and your own Council works out a deal, then you can see her in, maybe, two years tops. You just gotta wait for our borders to open up to each other and then you can see her whenever you want."

 _Although this terrorist attack is gonna make things a thousand times harder..._

Ruby stayed silent, taking in the information and making guesses at the future. James looked towards the blonde, his sword sheathed and his eyes quietly observing the activities of the ship around him. Taking out his watch, James noted the time - 7:45 PM.

"Alright, it's getting late. I'm sure you two teens have someplace to be at this time, something to do or complete some hunter business."

"We can walk from here, I think."

"Alright," James motioned for them to follow him, "I'll take you two down off the ship. I can get a marine to escort you in the direction of the city."

As the Captain lead the pair to an off ramp, Ruby's mind was a flurry of thoughts about the future.

 _Soon, mom, soon._

* * *

 _21 September 2016_

 _United States of America_

 _White House Situation Room (John F. Kennedy Conference Room)_

 _Time: 0845 (8:45 AM)_

All was quiet in the White House Situation Room. The occupants of the room were waiting for their president to arrive in order to begin things. That did not mean they were unprepared for the following discussion. Papers lay in front of their respective owners, detailing numerous things. Yet the subject was unanimous in all of them - the situation currently going on in the South China Sea (not including the numerous territory disputes).

 _Click_

As soon as the door opened, everyone that was already seated stood up from their seats, waiting until the President sat down before seating themselves again.

"Alright," Michael started, "Let's start guys."

Secretary of Defense Theodore Colburn started, "Carrier Strike Group Eleven is already underway out of, uh, Remnant. We expect them to arrive at Yokosuka by 10:30 in the morning today. Carrier Strike Group Five will remain in Remnant, although it is clear now that our commitment of forces are not well received..."

"China has been very vocal about the number of naval assets we have in the South China Sea," Secretary of State Pamela Connors sighed, "I've spoken with their Foreign Minister twice already. He's told me that if we don't reduce the number of naval assets that we currently have in the South China Sea, then the Chinese would continue expanding and militarizing their islands."

Though there was progress in getting China to stop their island building, the deployment of military assets and search parties to the area had certainly derailed that progress. Although they were sympathetic and allowed the search parties, they certainly didn't like the presence of yet another carrier strike group.

"Reiterate to them that our operations there serve simply to investigate the cause of the disappearance of our sailors as well as this meteorological anomaly occurring in the area; anything more from them will have to be dealt with next time."

Pamela looked apprehensive, yet serious. As the Secretary of State, she spoke a lot with the foreign ministers and secretaries of other nations. Thus, she would be a bit more exposed to the intentions of other nations. And if intuition served correct...

"Sir," she pressed on, "I am certain the Chinese know. Actually, I am certain that any nation with access to satellite imagery know."

"Know of what, Miss Connors?" Michael looked at her with his serious face, though he had a guess as to what she was talking about.

"That a good portion of the world - including the Chinese - know of the existence of Remnant. I don't have much solid proof, but I have received numerous calls from many nations, mostly our allies, requesting a meeting to discuss the events that happened in the South China Sea. The way they spoke to me during these calls had this _tone_ that hinted of ulterior motives. And each conversation was very short, much shorter than any I've ever had," she paused, "I suggest discussing this as soon as possible with our allies, better the United Nations actually."

The President took this into consideration, wondering how they would tackle revealing the existence of Remnant to the rest of the world. So far, Remnant has only been in contact with the United States, they haven't stepped into Earth nor have any other Earth nations initiate contact with them. Then there was the location of the "entrance" to Remnant, as well as the significant military presence in the area.

Michael looked up, stepping out of thought, and addressed the room, making sure Pamela heard him. "We'll request a United Nations meeting within the year to discuss Remnant... among other things. Pamela, I want you to stress to China and maybe Russia's foreign ministers that they attend this meeting. Tell Natalie to be ready to represent us in the meeting."

"Understood, sir," Pamela noted in her tablet.

"Then there's the matter of the _Zumwalt_..." Theodore mentioned.

A momentary pause.

Michael turned to his Secretary of Defense, "Are salvage teams on the way?"

"We have a ship en route to pick up the hull and teams are with them to assist in the lifting process. The Kingdom of... Atlas has also extended their assistance in lifting the vessel, they say they have some equipment that would be of great use. I've denied it, of course."

Theodore handed him the packet regarding the equipment that would be used, the number of men on-site, etc. However, Michael already had a firm answer. He wasn't about to let this "Kingdom of Atlas" get their hands on one of their most advanced warship's technology, even if half of it was under the water.

"Tell them that we appreciate the concern but we can handle our own affairs; that is a statement from me, tell them that." Michael made his answer as politically neutral as possible, "Once the salvage teams finish their job, I want CSG 5 to retreat back to the portal on our side - that is, Earth-side - and maintain the quarantine zone around the portal."

While having a whole new world to explore and exploit was tempting, asset security was more important in Michael's point of view. He kept it as the same priority during _The Westernization and Stabilization of The Middle East_ program - number one.

"Sir, I'd like to return to Pamela's point earlier on nations possibly knowing the existence of, err, Remnant except on the domestic side; photos of the area have shown the mass disappearance of CSG 5 when they crossed the portal to Remnant," Director of National Intelligence Jacob Blair displayed a few photos from various sites. Images from sites like 4Chan, Reddit, Imgur, and more flashed across the screen.

"I presume that you've taken no measures yet?"

Jacob was silent. Again, Michael asked his Director.

"We have not deleted the images, but we are tracking where they pop up and dispersing suspicion by running a few bots to pass off the disappearance as a graphical error or satellite glitch," he blurted, "That is the only measure we've taken so far."

"Good," Michael nodded, "Better to keep the public guessing than ignorant."

Jacob moved on, "Our agents in other nations also report similar discussions regarding the South China Sea occurring. They are on guard, that's what I can tell you."

"All the more reason to push this UN meeting as soon as possible."

"Although CSG 11 is still underway towards Yokosuka, Admiral Carter was able to give us a quick, unofficial debrief on what happened while they were away," Theodore laid down the next order of business, "I'll skip the particulars of first contact for what I think is more important: this Kingdom of Atlas."

The original photo that the sailor from the _Enterprise_ took on his phone was displayed, along with video feed from the OPTICS of the sailors a part of the Vale detachment.

"Based on these photos and personal invoice from Admiral Carter himself, Atlas is technologically on par with us, maybe even superior."

"Now, now Theodore," Michael started, "That isn't a hundred percent true."

The other occupants of the room agreed, few as they were.

"Here," he pointed out the photo of an Atlesian airship's bow peaking from behind a cloud, "That is something we could never hope to achieve with today's technology. That's a full functioning, heavily armored, heavily armed, metal _airship_."

"With a _rigid_ body..." an Admiral noted.

"Supposedly, these airships are capable of transporting hundreds of troops and vehicles as well as aircraft..." Theodore paused, trying to find a phrase to describe it's range, "Between kingdoms without the need for mid-air refueling. From what sailors of CSG 11 observed during "The Battle of Beacon," they're armored enough to resist attacks from these "Nevermores," attacks that absolutely penetrated the hull of our destroyers. Not to mention the firepower that these things carry-"

"Alright, alright, that's enough, Theo," Michael stopped his SoD before the tone of the room changed for the worse. "So they have airships that are the equivalent of a light carrier here. What else?"

Theodore focused the room's attention on the mech, the Paladin-290. "They have this mech that supports ground troops. I'm not sure on it's full capabilities, but this video feed should show things clearly."

A shaky video feed from a sailor's OPTICS played on the TV, displaying the Paladin-290's capabilities in full. Chain-guns, energy cannons, and backpack rockets fired at the US sailors, destroying buildings and throwing up asphalt everywhere.

"Energy guns..."

"Rockets..."

The video ended with an F/A-18 _Super Hornet_ unloading four AGM-65 _Mavericks_ on the mech, bringing it to the floor and the sailors into a cheer.

"As you can see here, this mech has Directed Energy Weapon capabilities, surface-to-surface missiles, and mobility unseen on this Earth. Of course, we all know the mantra that comes with mechs..."

 _Technology that makes mechs possible can be better implemented on a tank._

"But it does set a precedent," Michael finished. "What are those smaller robots earlier? Robotic infantry?"

"Right on the dot, but they were easily dispatched. It was this mech that gave our boys the most trouble."

A pause.

Pamela sighed, "Guys, I think that we overestimating Atlas a little. Now, I'm not a military woman, but I've seen enough of our arsenal to know that it's _extensive_ ; certainly we have a weapon to deal with all these mechs and airships?"

The military men in the room gave her words some thought. A few projects came to mind.

"She's right," they collectively agreed, "Our conventional weaponry should be enough for anything on the ground we encounter."

"It's just the airships that truly pose a problem..." was the consensus.

"Another problem for another time guys," Michael interrupted, "From what I hear, there's more than one race on Remnant. The... Faunus, is it?"

A scientist stood up from his spot on the table, "That's right, sir. Based on what we know, we're more on the consensus that they're not a new race, but more a sub-species of human.

As the man continued to explain the particulars of their reasoning, Michael knew that they would be in this room for quite some time.

* * *

 **Hey everyone, been a while since the last chapter huh?**

 **Sorry for being gone, but I decided to take a break from writing until the school year was over. So from April to June, I focused on simply getting through the final weeks of school.**

 **Now that I'm on summer break (almost halfway, actually) _The New World_ is officially back on track with a new chapter!**

 **The first half of this chapter was actually done before I went on my self-imposed break, but school was almost over so I wanted to struggle just a little more before writing once more.**

 **Until next time!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone, NicodemusV back with another chapter of** ** _The New World_**

 **Seems that last chapter, people expressed some varied responses to Earth humans having Aura. Don't worry though, it will be explained in future chapters/stories. Earth Aura-users also won't be overpowered or anything like that. It will all be explained in the future. Meaning that** ** _The New World_** **is not the end of this story. Well, it is, but I can assure you there will be a sequel of some sort.**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **Aquaticmammals - I agree with you, but at the same time these airships are built to withstand attacks from aerial Grimm as well as opposing airships. I'm also pretty sure an APFSDS round can mission-kill a mech in one shot ;)**

 **Raraiki - I'll balance them out, but the topic will be explained more in the story.**

 **war90 - Thanks!**

 **Edrap - Yep, now we get into the geopolitical scene... Those scenes are honestly the hardest to write.**

 **SkiesEagle - Oh, Jaune might have unlocked a special something... I'm also pretty sure that the U.S. military doesn't have any mech capable of Paladin feats but you never know** _(ツ)/

 **OBSERVER01 - I know right?! When I first read about who the captain was, I was so surprised.**

 **scottusa1 - Thanks!**

 **I might have made the staple airship, the** ** _Aslean-class_** **destroyer a bit too powerful. I'll retcon it's stats and change it to something a little less... conventional oriented. They are fighting Grimm most of the time, after all. Was basing it off our own** ** _Arleigh-Burke class_** **destroyers when making their stats, so it's capabilities might have ballooned a bit inappropriately for an anti-Grimm doctrine military.**

* * *

 _Crocea Mors. In a long dead language, it translates to "Yellow Death". The ancestral blade has been passed down for generations within the Arc family. It's reputation as a weapon and as a symbol of hope surpasses all others before it. One can be assured that this sword has been used and seen in almost every major conflict in Remnant's history. Forged with the purest metals and weaved with the finest Dust, it's skilled and advanced craftsmanship has withstood the test of time for over a hundred years. It's been wielded by every great Arc warrior in history and continually finds itself passed down to the champion of the Arc family. Indeed, this weapon remains relevant even with the development of firearms and the innovation of mecha-shift. For Crocea Mors true power lies with it's wielder..._

* * *

 _15 October 2016_

 _United States of America_

 _Honolulu, Hawaii_

 _Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam_

 _Time: 0700 (7:00 AM)_

It has been over a week since the incident with the _Zumwalt._ Subsequently, a week's worth of activities took place; a salvage team arrived in Remnant and picked up the hull of the _Zumwalt_ ; CSG 5 retreated back to the Earth-side of the Remnant portal; and most important of all...

Admiral John H. Carter became the first Earth human to unlock his Aura. Of course, no one except some sworn-to-secrecy medical staff, Navy Corpsman Charlie Wilkerson, and the government knew of this fact. Until Remnant could properly be revealed to the world, all information regarding the fantasy world beyond would be kept behind the closed doors of the US government. Only time could tell when Remnant would step on the world stage.

And this time was rapidly approaching.

 _"Silver, Pearl Harbor-Hickam departure, you are clear to taxi to runway zero-four right."_

 _"Harbor-Hickam departure, roger, taxiing to zero-four right."_

The wheels of the F/A-18 _Hornet_ rolled back as the trolley pulled the jet forwards out of her hangar, turning and aligning the craft with the yellow paint on the tarmac. The white vehicle drove away, being careful not to get caught in the _Hornet's_ back blast. The jet rolled forward, it's pilot gently pushing the throttle up just enough to get the metal bird moving.

 _"Harbor-Hickam departure, Silver clear of hangar, taxiing to zero-four right."_

 _"Hickam departure copy."_

The morning sun shined an orange haze on the air field, illuminating the numerous glass canopies of her fellow training pilots. It would be their last flight together on land based runways; they'd soon be assigned to a carrier wing and begin training for carrier-based aviation. With over ten carriers to distribute pilots between, the chances of staying with your squadron mate were slim.

 _"Looks like you finally made it out, Summer,"_ a voice sounded from her radio, _"lucky for you, we're still taking off."_

 _"Sharing an air field with the Air Force has that perk, Rolfe."_

 _"We're being assigned soon, ten days couldn't come fast enough!"_

 _"Yeah..."_

Summer watched as the _Hornet_ in front of her turned into the runway, it's engines roaring as it soared down the runway at takeoff speed. The fighter veered off to the right, engaging in a holding pattern with it's fellow squadron mates.

 _"Silver, Pearl Harbor-Hickam departure, you are clear for takeoff on runway zero-four right."_

 _"Pearl Harbor-Hickam departure, roger, taking off on zero-four right. Merging to heading zero-two-five clearing ILS zero-four left."_

Pushing the throttle forward, the acceleration of the craft pushed her back in her seat, her Aura doing nothing to stop the g-force bearing down on her body from acceleration. Pulling the stick back, the _Hornet's_ nose tilted upward, aerodynamics pulling the plane up in the sky. Being careful not to stall, she rolled right - bringing her into the pattern with her squadron mates.

 _"12th Training Squadron, check in,"_ Summer radioed to her fellow pilots.

 _"Check, Rolfe."_

 _"Check, Belle."_

 _"Check, Marlo."_

 _"Check, Leo."_

 _"Alright, looks like everyone's in the air. Our squadron's callsign today is Shield. We'll be practicing air combat maneuvers against the 9th Training Squadron today; they'll be designated as Sword. We're meeting them out over the open sea in seven. Change bearing to one-four-six and assume formation."_

Pushing the stick to the right, she rolled and pulled forward, bringing the fighter into a turn. Rolling back into a level position once at the proper bearing, Summer looked to her left and right, seeing her squadron mates in their proper positions. The sun was right in front of them, rising ever so slowly over the horizon. Visibility promptly reduced.

Rolfe's voice sounded in on the comms, _"Hey, any of you heard about what happened to the new Zumwalt class the Navy just put out?"_

 _"You mean that new stealth boat?"_ the soft voice of Belle responded, _"I heard it got sunk."_

 _"By terrorists,"_ Leo spat. _"Fortunately, the hull's been recovered."_

 _"The crew's dead though..."_ Leo reminded them.

 _"Not the Captain,"_ Summer countered, _"Captain Kirk is recovering with CSG 5."_

 _"Kirk, huh? Think it's a coincidence he got put in charge of a brand new starship- I mean, stealth ship?"_

 _"PR had a hand in it, I bet you."_

Summer listened to her squadron converse among themselves, about news and family, about anything going on in the world. They talked so fluidly, so naturally - like family. It was like her days back in Beacon with-

 _Team STRQ...Those were the days. If CSG 11 has returned and CSG 5 is staying in the South China Sea, then that means Ruby must be doing something right. I can't wait to see-_

A voice brought her out of her thoughts.

 _"Contact 12 o' clock, thirty-five kilometers out! Group of five approaching us, IFF and OPTICS show them as Sword."_

 _"No missile lock detected, they're adhering to the designated exercise."_

 _"No course deviations so far, thirty kilometers out."_

The tone of the squadron had shifted so fast, it's as though the sun was setting instead of rising. _"Alright Shields, we're about to engage in combat with these guys. At eight kilometers out, break formation and cross them. Come from behind and from then on, pick your target and dance."_

Receiving a chorus of affirmation from her squadron, Summer leaned back and kept her hand on the stick, preparing to break formation up and to the left once the distance was close enough.

 _"Break!"_

The five jets turned out of the enemy squadron's way, afterburners burning to execute the move as quickly as possible. As expected, the opposing group performed evasive maneuvers as well, pulling up and down out of their way. Nevertheless, they crossed paths and turned back towards the joint base as fast as possible before picking their targets and chasing after them.

 _"I'm on his six!"_ Summer called out to her squad.

 _"Copy here!"_

 _"Same here!"_

 _"I'm locked-on!"_

Summer quickly looked down at her radar and noticed Shield 1-2 being tailed by a dot.

 _"All Shields, rise to angels one-four! One-two, engage electronic countermeasures!"_

 _"Rog, pulling ECM."_

The group of _Hornets_ rose to fourteen thousand feet, their engines roaring as the twin turbofans pulled them into the sky. Breaking the cloud cover, the metal angels reengaged their aggressors, stepping back into the dance of high-g maneuvers and burning fuel. Summer took a quick glance back down on her radar, noticing the two dots covering her six.

 _"I have two on my aft, no radar lock yet!"_

 _"Assisting!"_

Summer noticed another dot - Shield 1-1 - swing into position behind the second dot. Immediately, it pulled away and to the right, Shield 1-1 following closely after.

 _"I got a 'hit' with a gun burst, two more on this guy and he's out!"_

 _"Rog, prioritize Rolfe's target, designated Alpha!"_

Summer felt her _Hornet's_ air frame shudder as two of her fellow pilots flew in front of her dorsal area, the vortex created by the twin turbofans causing her to grip her stick tight and hold course. Receiving a radar lock tone from her dash, she engaged ECM and pulled up. The enemy fighter followed.

 _This guy's persistent..._

 _"Rising to angels twenty! I'm gonna need the space to deal with this guy."_

 _"Copy Actual. We 'downed' Alpha. Moving back to- oh shit!"_

Summer glanced down at her dash; the dot was still following her, but three others had dropped themselves down on Shield 1-3.

 _"Frigging! I'm hit, Actual, I'm downed."_

 _"Don't take it so hard, Marlo, retreat back-"_

 _BEEEEEP!_

The radar lock-on tone sounded urgently on her dash, followed quickly by the missile approach tone.

 _BEEEEEBEEEBEEP!_

Summer was still climbing when the 'missile' left it's pylon. Before Summer could pop flare, the missile 'detonated' near her starboard horizontal stabilizer. Fortunately, it wasn't enough for a 'hit' - if it was a real hit, training would kick in and she'd compensate for the loss with some handling of the stick and a diversion to the nearest airbase. Not that she'd let that happen.

 _"Close detonation on my right stabilizer, not a hit though!"_

 _"Roger, I have two hits on this guy, bringing down the third!"_

Summer acknowledged the report but held back on advising her squadron mate. It was time to focus all attention on the flyboy behind her.

Reaching angels twenty, Summer pulled back on the stick into a vertical turn. As expected, her pursuer closely followed. She powered down her engines, cutting off the thrust keeping her craft afloat. The enemy _Hornet_ pulled up to evade her rapidly slowing craft and Summer's _Hornet_ began to fall back to the sea. Physics and some stick handling made her fall engines first, her nose pointing right up into the sky.

And towards her enemy.

Lighting up her opposing craft, Summer 'launched' two missiles at her aggressor.

 _"Fox 2, Fox 2!"_

Two AIM-9 _Sidewinders_ 'detached' from their launch pylons and soared towards her opponent; the enemy jet popped flare, causing one of the missiles to veer off course and 'detonate' a safe distance away from the craft. Nevertheless, the other remaining missile soared towards the twin turbofans of the enemy _Hornet_ , homing in on the infrared signature being generated by such powerful engines.

 _Hit! Yes!_

But Summer wasn't done. Aiming her _Vulcan_ rotary cannon, she fired off a three second burst, impacting the port side wing of her aggressor.

 _"Guns, Guns!"_

 _"You get him, Actual?"_

 _"Solid copy, Belle, confirmed two 'hits'!"_

Flipping the arm switch yet again, Summer pushed down on the big red button, letting off another two 'missiles' at her predator-turned-prey.

 _"Fox 2, Fox 2!"_

If this was reality, the missiles would've soared right up to the twin turbofan engines and exploded, shoving shrapnel in the exhaust and shredding open the air frame. With key elements of the engine exposed and fuel lines cut, eventually the _Hornet_ would begin smoking and losing power - sealing the craft to it's fate.

 _"This guy's down, three hits confirmed."_

 _"Copy Actual."_

 _"Shield, report."_

 _"Only two bandits left, I'm on one of them. The rest have bugged out."_

 _"Marlo's our only loss so far - poor bastard, he's gonna have to buy drinks!"_

Looking back down on her radar, Summer noticed Shield 1-1 on the tail of a dot. Maneuvering so that she was also tailing the dot, she kept her altitude at angels twenty.

 _"Shield 1-1, get a hit on that guy, I'm on his six at difference six thousand. Tell me when you got a lock and I'll lock in afterwards, get this guy's blood shaking a bit."_

 _"Copy, I have lock on him now."_

 _"Roger, locking now."_

In the cockpit of the enemy fighter the pilot was doing all he could to shake the plane off his six. Pulling a vertical turn and then a tight left curve, his movements on the stick were all for naught to the skill of the pilot behind him. A light lit up, indicating that his plane was locked on. A few moments later, the light turned off and on again, indicating that he was locked on by yet another plane.

 _"Shoot him now!"_

 _"Fox 2, Fox 2!"_

 _"Guns, Guns!"_

Two _Sidewinder_ missiles 'flew' off the pylons of Summer's _Hornet_ followed by a three second burst of gunfire from Rolfe's cannon. The aggressor pilot, now on the defensive, 'popped' flare and engaged ECM, causing one of the missiles to veer off course and 'explode' a safe distance away. But no amount of flares or ECM would stop a bullet from reaching it's target.

If this was a real battle, that three second burst of gunfire would have impacted the starboard wing, going right through the wing itself and opening up the fuel tank. It also would have impacted where the wing connected to the main body, causing even more fuel leakage and putting severe pressure on the pilot to keep the aircraft upright.

 _"One bandit left, I'm turning to deal with- oh shit, he's right behind me!"_

 _"Belle, Leo, assist Rolfe!"_

But it was too late. The pilot had already achieved lock and fired off a burst of gunfire, followed by three staggered missiles. They 'impacted' all around Rolfe's aircraft, shredding key control surfaces and exposing avionics and engine components to the harsh elements. If this was a real fight, Rolfe would've been dead.

 _"Fuck! That's it for me, I'm fucking downed, three hits in a single go."_

 _"Retreat back to base Rolfe, we'll take over from here."_

 _"Actual, I'm close to three strikes. One more and I'm out."_

 _"Copy, I have one life left here too."_

 _"Alright, you two pull back behind me; when I say mark you get a lock on this guy and unload everything you got on him, roger?"_

 _"Roger, pulling ba- damn!"_

Shield 1-2 got locked on by the aggressor, forcing her to abort her current maneuver and engage ECM. Unfortunately, a burst of gunfire followed by a single missile was let loose after her, achieving a 'hit' on her vertical stabilizers. The missile detonated near her cockpit, causing shrapnel to 'embed' themselves in her cockpit, putting the pilot in danger of explosive decompression.

 _"That's it, I'm downed. Sorry Actual."_

Summer ignored her squadron mate in favor of completing the play at hand. Getting a lock on her radar, she let loose a burst of gunfire and a single missile, trying to keep to real-life ammo constraints. The missile exploded right behind the twin turbofan engines, shoving shrapnel in the exhaust and in the cowlings. The burst completely missed, the enemy pilot engaging afterburners and pulling off a tight right curve to evade further damage.

 _"This guy's slippery! How many hits does he have?"_

 _"You laid down the first one, Actual."_

Looking back down on her radar, Summer took note of her target's location and began maneuvering herself into position. Executing a quick right turn, she rose quickly until she was right above her target. Glancing back down, she noticed that Shield 1-2 and Shield 1-4 were hot on his tail, the aggressor pilot pulling off a frantic guns defense. Unable to shake off his two pursuants, he was oblivious to the presence of his soon-to-be attacker right in front of him.

 _"I got him; pull back you two!"_

As the enemy pilot began a wide turn to the left, Summer pulled up and rolled left, executing a barrel roll attack. The fool was just beginning to straighten out from his turn, just as Summer came up right behind him on his port side.

 _"Fox 2, Fox 2!"_

Two _Sidewinders_ came 'flying' off the pylons, soaring right towards the enemy pilot. They detonated on both sides of his craft, severely damaging the air frame and wings.

 _"Guns, Guns!"_

A three second burst of gunfire left her _Hornet's_ nose, the hailstorm of bullets 'impacting' the starboard horizontal stabilizer. If this were real combat, this pilot would be dead.

 _"He's down, I got the message from him."_

 _"At least he's a good sport about it."_

 _"Alright, let's RTB. Get debriefed and then hit the showers."_

 _"Roger,"_ was the report from her two squadron mates. Turning back towards Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Summer couldn't help but feel like she'd be seeing Ruby very soon. And that someone was-

 _"Did you guys say something?"_

 _"No?"_

 _"It's probably just radio chatter, Actual."_

 _"Yea... alright."_

She could've sworn someone was talking to her.

* * *

 _16 October 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Rose-Xiao Long Residence_

 _Time: 0700 (7:00 AM)_

The morning sun shone bright in the backyard of the Rose-Xiao Long residence. Casting it's heavenly, orange rays along the forest, it highlighted the beads of sweat falling off a young man's shaggy, blond hair. His back was soaked with sweat, his breathing heavy and hard as he came down from the adrenaline rush that came with running three miles at full speed. From the house to the port of Patch and back was a trip a grand total of three miles - and this was with the shortcut through the woods of Patch.

Unfortunately for Jaune, he did not encounter any Grimm on his path through the forest and down the rocks. A pity - he was hoping to practice his swordplay with them.

Dropping the ancestral blade, Crocea Mors, and his heater shield with the twin rainbows of the Arc family (which, upon further speculation and observation, caused the question of whether they were twin crescent moons or a double rainbow), Jaune forced himself to stand up, his lower back muscles aching from having run and climbed a total of three miles. His eyes spot a fluttering of red coming out of the woods, the iconic weapon of Ruby Rose standing tall above it's wielder.

Jaune blinked. His vision was, once again, clouded by cyan auragrams - the name he came for the holograms that only _he_ could see, leading him to conclude that his aura had something to do with it - the auragrams approached and attacked Ruby in various ways. Sliding and slashing at her ankles, hitting her in the back of the head with Crocea Mor's pommel, choking her, etc. Jaune blinked again, rubbing his eyes, ridding his vision of the cyan auragrams.

 _I need to learn how to control this. At least the attacks aren't as lethal anymore._

Since the time at the port, Jaune had been seeing the auragrams whenever he focused on one particular person. Depending on his mindset towards his target, the attacks were lethal or nonlethal. Sometimes, the auragrams would attack both his target and a nearby person - but never someone outside his field of vision. Limitations, Jaune supposed, to his semblance, if that's what it actually was.

 _I should consult Ren about this - he seems to have high aura control. Perhaps his parents were one of those aura monks that devoted their lives to Aura and it's ways._

Picking up his gear and moving to a tree stump, Jaune sat down and laid back, stretching his back downwards as it bent to the outline of the stump and the ground below it. Groaning slightly at the _pop_ noises that emerged from his spine, he will himself back up, his abdominal muscles straining to pull up the entirety of his upper body. Wiping some more sweat that had accumulated on his face, he stood up and began stretching his body out, preparing for the combat routine that he had developed himself.

With the help of Pyrrah, of course.

Looking towards Ruby, who for some reason had not yet entered her household, Jaune felt some modicum of relief when the cyan auragrams did not appear again. Yet, playing grimm's advocate for a bit, he concentrated on Ruby, trying to think of how he would approach and attack her. Not that he would ever do such a thing, no.

To his dismay, they did not appear in his field of vision.

 _Yup, I need to get help. Ren... maybe Tai can help. He's a Hunter, so he should know some stuff._

Moving his eyes up, he noticed Yang looking at him, making a face that Jaune could only discern as legitimate concern for her sister, who was currently being intensely stared at. Now, Jaune was no fool, but growing up with seven sisters made Jaune recognize the wide variety of faces that women made. And the one currently directed at him was normally one reserved for elder sisters glaring at younger boys who went after their younger sister. Not good.

 _Gotta play this off... at least she's showing more emotion._

"Uhh, h-hey, Ruby!" Jaune yelled over at the girl, gaining her attention, her body turning to meet his.

"Yea?!" She yelled back him. Normally, she would've used her semblance to immediately meet Jaune face to face so that she wouldn't have to yell. But this time, she didn't. Things were different ever since they got back from the port. Speaking of which...

"I uhh, never got to thank you for what you did at the port!"

Now that got her attention. Mentioning the port prompted her to immediately zip over, her hair and hood flying in the short amount of time it took to get there.

"What do you mean?"

 _Right, what_ did _I mean?_

"Th-that shot. When I was fighting that faunus... Lucy, I was pinned down when she got thrown back away from me," Jaune looked up and looked directly into Ruby's eyes.

"That was you, wasn't it."

The reaper stayed silent, trying to recall whether she did or did not fire that shot. After all, she did use her gun a lot, but Ren was also there with his machine pistols. Her eyes lit up, recalling the moment.

"Ohh, I remember now!" Ruby declared, "I just took a quick glance and noticed you were struggling, so I just took a quick shot to help you out."

"Yea... thanks."

"No problem!"

The silence that fell thereafter was so thick and awkward, that even Nora, with all her energy and strength, could not hope to break it or swim through it with her bubbliness. The two teens faced each other, one sitting and the other standing, though the difference in height was negligible; Jaune was to Ruby's height sitting as Ruby was to Jaune's height standing.

"Want to spar?"

"What?"

"I said," Jaune repeated, "Do you want to spar?"

Ruby seemed reluctant, something which Jaune noticed immediately. Yet another one of the many faces that women made, easily recognizable by living with seven sisters.

"Oh. Oh!" Jaune went to save the moment, "Uhh, I promise I won't do any grapples or anything like that. Just swordplay. I've been wanting to practice lately but there were no Grimm around," Jaune delivered that last part as cool as possible - it had mixed effects.

Seeing Ruby still reluctant, Jaune tried again. "Ok, ok, I'll just go inside real quick and change my shirt. Just gotta ask if your dad has an extra..."

As Jaune said that and began to stand up, Ruby suddenly reacted, stopping him short in his tracks. Her face was tinged with pink and little droplets of sweat formed at her forehead. Trying to calm her breathing, Ruby softly spoke out.

"N-no, that's fine. I'll just take a shower afterwards, I always get sweaty after sparring anyways," Ruby took in the implications of her sentence and, like Jaune, went quickly to save it.

"I-I mean, that's not to say I sweat all the time! I sweat a reasonable amount, not too much, but like, normal, you know? It's perfectly normal for girls to sweat, like I saw Weiss sweating and she's from Atlas! It's normal-"

"Right," Jaune cut her off, "It's normal. But I can still go and change if you want-"

"No! I mean, no. Let's just," Ruby took in a deep breath, "Let's just spar. Do you need a minute to rest?"

"N-no, I'm all limbered up."

"O-Ok."

The two hunters-in-training went their opposite direction, with Ruby straying not too far from the stump while Jaune was all the way back near the woods. This confused Ruby, not expecting Jaune to be so far away. The young man had his blade, Crocea Mors, and his heater shield out in front of him, body set in a textbook swordsman stance.

"Why are you so far away?"

"I'm... trying something new. Isn't this the first time we've sparred against each other?"

"I don't think so..."

Ruby tried to recall the last time they sparred against each other in Beacon. Thinking back, her short time in Beacon seemed so far away, years even, despite it only being a little over a month ago.

"On three," Jaune called from the other side.

Ruby nodded, unfolding Crescent Rose and switching it to scythe mode. This action incurred some disappointment on Jaune's face, though only for a second, and shifted to a face of relief a moment later.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" Jaune shouted, charging forward with his shield up, his eyes just barely over the top of the shield. His sword was nowhere in sight, though his right hand was also unseen, indicating to Ruby that he did still have it out.

Despite Jaune's best efforts to close the distance, Ruby met him a meter after the stump, clanging against his shield and stopping Jaune's advance. She leapt away, much faster than she thought she would have to, when Jaune's shield dropped faster than anticipated and Crocea Mors rushed out, it's point piercing the very air where she once was.

 _Whoa! That was fast - he's really been training recently._

Ruby shifted her weapon into it's sniper mode, firing off a few shots at Jaune, forcing the other boy to raise his shield. Yet at the same time, he sprinted forward, closing the distance faster than Ruby liked. He slashed at her ankles, keeping the shield up above his head, the knight wincing a bit when her weapon slammed down on the twin arcs. The blade connected, sweeping her off her feet, but Ruby rolled with it, popping back up a farther distance away from Jaune.

Her opponent seemed surprised, his eyes yet again peeking just over the top of his shield. He seemed to relish in the fact that his blade had connected with her ankle, his eyes clearly focusing on the very slight limp that came from the offending strike. Ruby expected him to charge and close the distance again, but Jaune remained where he was. So Ruby took the initiative once more.

 _Here I go!_

Speeding forward, Ruby swung her scythe four times in quick succession. Jaune adeptly blocked each of them, but he was slowly being pushed back. On the fourth hit, Ruby purposefully swung short in front of him, baiting Jaune into lunging forward at her chest. And he did.

 _I have you now!_

Grabbing his arm, Ruby used all of her strength in pulling him forward and kneeing him, something that Blake taught her during a spar, and quickly spun him around before tripping him and pointing Crescent Rose at his face. Jaune, seeing the position he was in, promptly yielded.

"Alright," Jaune surrendered, "I give up."

Ruby smiled, "You've gotten better! And I mean like, a _lot_ better. I think you'd be able to take on Ren or maybe even Nora at this rate."

"At this rate, huh..."

Jaune took Ruby's arm, pulling himself up and brushing off the dirt on his shoulders Sheathing Crocea Mors, he gestured to Ruby to start going inside. As she entered the house, Jaune noticed the window to Yang's room being devoid of any face.

 _She's probably gone to sleep or something..._

Little did he know, that Yang was really fiddling with the "gift" that Ironwood sent her.

* * *

 _7 December 2016_

 _Remnant Portal_

 _United Nations Expeditionary Fleet_

 _Time: 1200 (12:00 PM)_

It was about time.

After almost two months of conference and planning, the United Nations as a whole had finally decided how to deal with Remnant.

With military force, of course.

When the United States revealed the existence of Remnant to the UN, there was a surprising lack of incredulity from some of the more well known nations in the world. Those being the UK, France, China, basically any nation with some form of surveillance over the area of the South China Sea the days CSG 11 disappeared, CSG 5 disappeared, and when both CSGs reappeared some time later - in the exact same spot. Granted, these nations feigned surprise, but it was clear to the American Ambassador to the United Nations that they knew something.

The public reveal was met with a much more exciting response. While the rumor mill was already in high gear, hearing it directly from the United Nations completely threw that mill off. It was revealed through a well written document as well as speeches from every nation in the UN - of course, specific information was left out, such as why the _Zumwalt_ required salvage teams, or the existence of Grimm. As the information was disseminated, the reactions started to come in. And they were just about what the government expected. Highly varied in every aspect of the word.

Religious heresy, xenophobia, and imperialism were just three undertones of the trillions of comments that flooded every news outlet, online forum, and social networking site in existence. MySpace, for what little population it had left, saw a 5% increase in activity with the reveal of Remnant to the world. Even more reactions came from the announcement that the UN would be sending a military force over to the other side. Already? So quickly? If the average viewer payed close attention to the document and speeches, they'd know that our "friends on the other world" are in some dire straits.

Dire straits that required an amphibious invasion force, naval fire support, and naval air support from a select group of nations: Japan, South Korea, Australia, the UK, and surprisingly enough, China. When they attended the initial UN conference that would reveal Remnant to the UN, they attended with the intent to make a solid agreement: that the People's Republic of China would play a part in whatever plans the UN had regarding Remnant. Thus, they were represented with the presence of a single group of three _Type 052D_ _guided missile destroyers_. The decision was heavily deliberated, especially within the US government, but ultimately it was a chance at peace in the SCS. A chance.

And of course, the entire expeditionary fleet would be lead by the United States.

Carrier Strike Group 5 was back in action, with Admiral John H. Carter having experienced a full recovery, much quicker than thought possible for the wound he suffered and as a man of his age too.

"I feel ten years younger!" said the Admiral during a press conference. He was bound by bureaucracy and military secrecy to not reveal some key parts of his time in Remnant. But the reporters present at the conference felt that the old man was shining.

Attached to CSG 5 for the duration of the operation, aptly named _Operation Huntsman_ , was a single _Wasp_ _class amphibious assault carrier_. This ship, the USS _Essex_ , would carry with them the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU). These ships, along with the combined naval assets of Japan, South Korea, Australia, China, and the UK would be the spearhead of the larger mission to exterminate the Kingdom of Vale of all Grimm and stabilize the region enough for better politics to take place. The United Nations Expeditionary Fleet (UNEF) would land forces in Vale, meet with friendlies from Atlas and local Hunters, and together rid the great city of its Grimm plague.

Admiral John H. Carter picked up a mic, relaying to all ships participating in _Operation Huntsman_.

 _"All ships, sound off."_

As every ship responded to the role call, John looked towards the block of sea in front of him. Despite it being high noon, when the sun was at its brightest and the sea was shining all around, there in the 4 km by 4 km block of ocean was a single large cloud. With a dark, night sky above it and a dark, black sea below it. As though the ocean itself came from another world.

"Sir, all ships are present."

Nodding to Rear Admiral Katherine Wallace, he picked up the mic and addressed the fleet again. Ordering them to shut hangar bay doors, secure aircraft, and to be present at their battle stations. They could be assaulted by Grimm as soon as they crossed over, despite Atlesian reports saying otherwise.

Again, receiving confirmation from his Rear Admiral that all ships had secured and prepared themselves, he picked up the mic again. And with a glow in his eye, he commanded-

 _"All ships, forward!"_

* * *

 **Once more unto the breach, eh? I was very tempted to have Carter say something like "move forward unto dawn!" or something like that. Maybe "forward unto Remnant!"**

 **Anyways, this chapter has been a long time coming. We see some of what Summer has been doing and what her future in the US Navy will be. Jaune's been leveling up faster and faster and you get a taste of what Yang's gonna do pretty soon. I also apologize for the time skips, I kind of want to get this story to the year 2017 before, well, the year 2017 is over. Can you believe it? We've survived five years past the Mayan date of extinction!**

 **That aside, I do apologize for how long this took to get out. School's been tough and I just haven't found the time to write. I just hoped this lived up to your guys' expectations.**

 **That also said, this story is nearing its end of life. The _series_ isn't ending, but this story by itself is. It may go on for maybe five or six more chapters before I put an end to this. Consider it the first _arc,_ so to speak. **

**Until next time,**

 **NicodemusV**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello everyone, NicodemusV here with another installment of** ** _The New World._**

 **Can you all believe it? We're at chapter 16! And Earth forces are yet again arriving in Remnant, except this time in full force. Its like we've come full circle. Fortunately, this circle is not yet completed! We still have some chapters before this story closes, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.**

 **Some responses to reviews:**

 **Calvinffn - No, I was actually inspired by the** ** _Emergence_** **series by Chris7221 as well as** ** _America in Remnant_** **by HeavyJ15. Unfortunately, both of those stories have ended, although they are good reads. I also recommend** ** _Remnant In Earth_** **by NewtypeAuthor346. I have also watched GATE, it's a pretty decent anime and manga.**

 **Aquaticmammals - I was inspired by some other Earth meets Remnant stories here; also** ** _The Final Countdown_** **is an amazing movie. The anime** ** _Zipang_** **is also similar to** ** _The Final Countdown's_** **premise, although I personally haven't watched that yet.**

 **war90 - We'll see. They've destroyed one of our most technologically advanced warships and are responsible for the deaths of many naval personnel and high ranking officers, so you can expect something at the least.**

 **sk3tch-MT - Nope, just the average American immigrant citizen with a bit of a nose for the latest in our country's military.**

 **Edrap - Armored Cores, no, but we do have** ** _many_** **things in real life that are actually being developed. While not American, there are bionic arms being developed in the UK and could probably be up for sale in the near future. Expect to see some weapons projects or technology like that be used in some capacity in the story and the story's future.**

* * *

 _"Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf"_

 _\- George Orwell_

* * *

 _12 December 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Industrial District_

 _31st Marine Expeditionary Unit_

 _2nd Battalion, 5th Marines_

 _Time: 0000 (12:00 AM)_

Throughout all the history of warfare on Earth, some of the most decisive engagements of any war occurred at night. And with the history of Earth so riddled with warfare, there is no doubt that fighting in the dark is one of the many facets of war that have been mastered by Earth's military forces. Yet despite the leaps and bounds in technology, tactics, and strategy, waging war during the night is still one of the many things any serviceman fears - aside from death. Darkness indicates to the human psyche the instinct of danger, and thus heightens ones sense of awareness.

The United Nations Expeditionary Fleet had quickly arrived in Remnant, eradicated the squadrons of Nevermore sent their way, landed forces on Vale, and within three days, the combined efforts of the UN troops were able to form a beachhead stretching the entirety of the northern coast of Vale's industrial district. After connecting with Atlesian military forces and Valean militia, the front lines were reinforced and the offensive movements began. United Nations forces combined with Vale and Atlesian forces would move to secure the industrial district in its entirety, including the land across the river splitting Vale. From then on, they'd fight their way to local pockets of resistance, eventually retaking the majority of the territory west of the river junction.

It was said that contracted Hunters and Beacon Academy staff would handle securing the residential district and the commercial district. To each their own, both sides supposed. Reinforcements from the U.S. Army would be due in two weeks, as well as further reinforcements from the U.S. Marine Corps. Until then, however, the men and women in the UNEF would be on their own, supported only by the supplies left on their ships. The ships themselves were waging a war on their own, shooting down the ever increasing numbers of Nevermore being sent their way. The sky was heavy with smoke and flame.

 _"Street clear."_

 _"No hostile signs."_

 _"Roger."_

The OPTICS of the marines of 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines glowed a dark shade of green in the night, making them look like tiny little gremlins that prowled the street. Except these little gremlins held weapons capable of killing even the strongest man, with the strength to back it up. Split up into their respective squads, Lance Corporal Mason Valdez scanned the street with his squad, occasionally sending a look to the other squads assigned to his street. Their green dots lined the walls, disappearing occasionally into an abandoned building to investigate God knows what.

High above them, much higher than the maximum flight ceiling of any Nevermore, whether they be Giant or not, flew a pair of F-35Cs. They fed data to the marines' OPTICS below, allowing them access to information that would be critical on the battle field.

 _"Birds just relayed us; large Grimm pack coming in two blocks ahead. Seem to be preoccupied with something. Number about sixteen to eighteen, couldn't name any specific types,"_ Lieutenant Eric Reese, the man leading the platoon assigned to the street, called out information while the squads were busy moving up. _"Got the cue; as soon as we're in position, they'll hit 'em with a missile and we'll mop up the rest."_

 _"Roger."_

 _"Copy."_

While sounds of affirmation came in from all squads, Valdez followed his squad leader, Sergeant Rico Stuart, down the street. She, like the rest of her squad, had her weapon in a low ready state, the safety flicked off and the fire selector set to automatic. At the rate they were moving, the western half of Vale would be secured right after New Years.

Coming up on the mentioned block and being the first squad to reach it, Rico put up a single balled fist. The entire squad stopped moving. Looking around, Mason could see the other squads moving into position, with at least one marine having their gun aimed at the Grimm in front of them while his fellow squad mates shifted into place. Looking at the targets themselves, Mason forced himself to look at them with a hard face. He didn't believe it himself, but these "Grimm" things were apparently attracted to fear. If that was the case, then Mason had nothing to worry about, and neither did any of the others.

Marines had no fear.

One of the Grimm, a "Beowolf" if Mason remembered his briefing correctly, moved away to reveal what had them so preoccupied. He immediately reported in the new information. An apparently large force of Atlesian Knights, combined with two Paladin-290s, had met the Grimm pack and failed to successfully fend them off. Their battered remains lay on the floor, in various states of damage. If nothing else, the Grimm made the marines' job easier.

 _"They're occupied destroying some robots, repeat, preoccupied destroying Atlesian droids."_

 _"Roger Valdez, birds can confirm too."_

Focusing back on the Grimm at hand, Mason shouldered his rifle, waiting for the cue from his squad leader or, failing that, the platoon's Lieutenant. All around him, men and women were shifting their weapons into place, some of them preparing to lob grenades right after the missile struck.

 _"Missile inbound, thirty seconds."_

The mood was tense; up until this block the marines had faced little resistance. What resistance they did find came from the lone Atlesian Knight or the stray White Fang terrorist that wandered the streets trying to connect with friendly forces. Both of these targets the rifles of 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines took down, occasionally having to focus fire on a White Fang member due to some Aura present on them.

 _"Hunter on the roof! Hunter on the roof!"_

 _"What? Say again your last!"_

 _"I repeat, Hunter on the roof, a Hunter is in the area! It looks like he's gonna engage the group!"_

 _"Fuck!"_

Before any of the marines on the street could say anything, the Hunter leapt into action. His sword swung powerfully, slicing at the very air the Grimm were - at least, they were thought to be - breathing. In that single slash, the Hunstman _bisected_ five Grimm, their corpses falling to the floor and quickly fading. While he jumped out of the way of a swiping Grimm paw, the man's sword shifted and, faster than _any_ of the marines could see, even with their OPTICS, quickly fired four shotgun blasts into the pack of Grimm. The two closest to the barrels were _shredded_ , with another pair behind those being blinded by the slugs fired.

But while it was an amazing sight, it did nothing to stop the missile coming in at mach speed, packed with explosives and kinetic energy from the rocket propelling it.

 _"Someone get that fuck out of there!"_

Immediately, Rico broke her position and fired into the air, yelling at the top of her lungs amidst the clash of dust-reinforced steel against flesh and concrete, telling this _extremely_ careless and powerful hunter to _get the fuck out of there_.

"GET OUT OF THERE, DUMBASS!"

Out of sheer luck, the man stopped his wild and air-splitting swings, pausing for a moment to take in what he just heard. Then he took another moment to look up at the star streaking towards his face, and promptly _transformed into a bird_.

 _"What the fuck did I just-"_

 _"FORGET IT!"_ Lieutenant Reese yelled through the OPTICS, _"Get back in position marine. All prepare to fire!"_

As the man, bird thing flapped his... wings and flew away into the night sky, the single AGM-65 Maverick fired by a loitering F/A-18 Super Hornet impacted the group of Grimm, killing all but a trio of Ursa and a pair of Beowolves, Valdez propped up his gun against his shoulder once more and depressed the trigger as soon as he heard the signal.

 _"Fire!"_

As soon as this command was spoken, a _hailstorm_ of bullets rained down on the Grimm before them. Bullets impacted all over their bodies, perforating their center mass and their mass _in general_ with bullets and white hot shrapnel provided by the detonation of the multiple M67 fragmentation grenades lobbed at their bodies. Their mangled corpses fell to the ground, quickly dissolving into black dust that was promptly whisked away by the sudden wind that came blowing from inland. Not even the remains of the Atlesian AK-130s or Paladin-290s remained, instead only charred husks of metal lied, unidentifiable from what they once were.

"You guys got some _really_ big booms, I'll tell you that."

All eyes on the street fell to the source of the comment, a single man standing in the middle of the street, cape fluttering in the midnight sky. His hair was slicked back, with some stubble marring his face as he whipped out a flask and took a long, hard swig of whatever the fuck he was drinking in the middle of a battle.

When the bottom came back down and the flask tightly secured to his waist, the man raised his head to find every barrel of every marines' gun pointed at his head, surrounding him at all sides.

"Uh, I guess I should introduce myself first."

No one spoke. They were letting him have his time to use whatever excuse he came up with while the Lieutenant checked in with the local Atlesian and Valean forces working in the kingdom.

The man cleared his throat, resting his hand not on his _weapon_ , but on his _flask_ instead. This triggered some responses from some of the marines, but seeing how he chose his flask over his weapon, they relaxed a bit.

"M'name's Qrow Branwen."

* * *

"So do all of you Earth guys have those green goggle things or just the... "United States?""

 _"This guy is really talkative..."_

 _"Wish he'd shut the fuck up."_

 _"For once, I agree with you Valdez."_

After the situation with the missile and the Grimm and the Hunter _turning into a bird,_ the marines of Lieutenant Reese's platoon just went "fuck it" and shoved along. Command, after talking over it with the local Hunters in the area, told them he was friendly, a well-known Hunter in the area and a teacher at this "Signal Academy." He apparently just had a penchant for liquor, but despite that was an overall formidable Hunter. A graduate of Beacon, the big gray castle sitting up in the mountains, and was supposedly fighting on Beacon's behalf to retake the eastern sector of Vale.

So why he was down in the west, walking along with the rifles of 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines was beyond anyone in the area.

 _"Remind me again why this dude's here."_

 _"He's bored with slaying darkness and decided to slay some whities instead,"_ replied Marcus, _"Swingin' 'round a sword and takin' trophies to go along with his wood cabin and bear rug covered floor."_

 _"Are there even bears here, Turner?"_

 _"Those "Ursa" looked like bears."_

 _"They sure as hell don't go down like one!"_

Mason smiled at the jokes of his fellow marines. It was a nice change of pace from the daily drills back at base in Camp Hansen, although this deployment at least could've come after the Comiket in Akihabara. One of his favorite manga authors was supposedly gonna do a signing at her booth, and damned if he was gonna miss it.

Well, he did. But, on the bright side, he was in a brand new world, going with his squad to kill literal manifestations of darkness and rescue civilians. If nothing else, it was better than the fighting going on in the Middle East, however diluted it was now than before.

While his squad was talking and joking around, and no doubt some of the other squads were too, the platoon as a whole was still on high alert, the tension from the earlier fight slowly ebbing away. "Qrow," as he called himself, walked in the middle of the street, by himself, one hand on his flask and the other swinging lazily beside him. His weapon was sheathed on his back, his cloak fluttering in the night wind. How he could see in such darkness was unknown, but it was generally just chalked up to Aura.

Suddenly, the aforementioned man stopped, and very quickly removed his hand from his flask and drew his weapon. The act startled some of the marines to the rear of the platoon, and Lieutenant Reese was about to ask him what he was doing before Qrow suddenly took off, leaping up into the air and landing on a roof, before leaping further ahead.

He only said, "I'm gonna scout something ahead, you guys keep going," before leaping away. Thankfully, he did not turn into bird form.

 _"And slick-hair's off. Wonder what he's gonna bring back?"_

 _"Bad luck, if he had to leave just like that."_

 _"Quiet on comms,"_ the voice of Lieutenant Reese pushed in, _"Our eyes in the sky just got sighting of a large Grimm horde, they're coming in from the commercial and residential district. Numbering around 50-95, they're in tight formation."_

One of the other squad leaders up front yelled something, and looking back up everyone could see what. Qrow had returned, his weapon out and eyes grim.

"Pretty big group up ahead, spotted a few baby Goliaths and Beringels. 'Round three groups of King Taijitu, five in each," Qrow looked at Reese, "Don't suppose you guys got another one of those missiles coming in?"

Someone shouted, "The fuck is a Goliath?!"

Qrow smiled, "A big ass elephant. And a Beringel's a big ass gorilla. King Taijitu are basically oversized scorpions."

 _"Is everything here fucking oversized?"_

 _"Doesn't look like he's compensating for anything."_

 _"Not what I meant, Marcus."_

"We got a plan Qrow," Reese yelled back at the man, still standing up on the roof, "We're gonna converge on it and fire into the mess while we strike the area with missiles and bombs."

"Isn't that gonna bring on some collateral damage?" Qrow questioned, although he didn't look so concerned about it. He himself was swinging his sword around wildly no more than half an hour ago either.

"This whole _area_ is collateral damage if we don't get your Grimm problem solved. Let's move."

With that, the platoon started moving up again, this time at a faster pace than before. Qrow continued on jumping from roof to roof, keeping an eye on the increasing number of Grimm just over five kilometers away.

"Shouldn't you be in the eastern half?" Reese shouted up at him.

"Don't worry!" Qrow replied, "They got it! I don't know why they're all gathering here though, should all be contained in the residential sector!"

Reese grunted, continuing the jog with his platoon.

 _"Alright, birds just updated; horde is now numbering around 100-150, with about 10 large Grimm in the front. They're smashing the buildings down to make space for more to come on, Council just gave us the green light to level the place. We need to be in position in twenty-five minutes, we're on mop-up duty afterwards too."_

 _"Who else is coming in on this?"_ a squad leader asked.

 _"All of our guys are coming in from their streets, word is that most of it's been cleared anyways. Grimm are still a problem, birds say they keep spawning up everywhere. Got a couple of Atlesian frigates dropping down and the local Hunters. Uhh, some Vale militia too."_

 _"Copy, I'm seeing some of our guys up fron- FUCK! Contact left, to the north!"_

Immediately, the squads up front took up positions and aimed their rifles left, down the street that the leading squads had just passed. Three men were down on the ground, their comrades already picking them up from behind their arms and dragging them behind cover.

 _"Corpsman!"_

 _"Shit!"_

Mason rushed forward, sliding on the ground to take cover behind an abandoned pick-up. He propped up his rifle against the hood of the truck, using the night vision of his OPTICS as best as he could amidst the bright plasma that rained down on the platoon's position.

 _"How many of 'em are there?!"_ someone yelled. Taking a quick look, Mason made a guess. His eyes widened.

 _"A-fucking-lot, I think!"_

 _"You think?!"_

 _"There's damn near a hundred of them!"_

He peeked up from behind the hood again, firing his gun once, twice at an Atlesian Knight before suddenly jerking back.

 _"Valdez, crap! Corpsman!"_

Mason dropped his gun, his arm moving to slap the wound on his left shoulder. Touching it, he was shocked to find the flesh charred, a solid hole going through his shoulder and exiting cleanly out his back. Knowing this, he suddenly felt faint, and no amount of training could force him to hold back his cries.

 _"AGGHHHHH, fuck, fuck, **fuck!** "_

 _"Marines, covering fire!"_ Lieutenant Reese ordered, _"Warren, get your ass over here! Carminer, go cover his patient!_ " keying his OPTICS, Reese ordered an immediate MEDEVAC, the hole in Mason's shoulder too severe for him to continue onward.

"QROW!" Reese shouted over the fire, "Where the _hell_ are you?!"

 _Clang!_

Ignoring the pain for a second and moving his head to the source of the noise, Mason saw Qrow further up the street they were originally moving up, battling a group of Grimm that appeared out of nowhere. The man was a blur, his sword flashing and clashing against the bone armor of the Ursa Majors and Alpha Beowolves he was fighting. Looking behind him, Mason saw pools of inky black, and little pieces of Grimm began to form.

"I'm a little busy right now!"

"Shit!" Reese cursed, then keying his OPTICS once more, " _Command, our sit's fucked up, we're being hemmed in by storm troopers and Grimm up ahead, we can't continue on to the rendezvous point."_

 _"Copy, requested MEDEVAC is nine minutes out, meet them at the designated point."_

Reese waited a moment as the location was pointed out on his OPTICS - when it was, his face became _livid_.

 _"Command, we are **not** gonna make that exfil point at this rate. We have wounded and Grimm in our AO. We have a hunter here, but he's busy, and there's shit-tons of spawning pools ahead."_

There was a brief pause as Command took in the information, but unfortunately, the response was still more or less the same.

 _"You're gonna have to, marine, skies are being filled with hostiles and our choppers can't get to where you are without being sliced to pieces. We're diverting some close-air support to the Knights and Grimm around you, but you're on your own. The strike on the horde is also cancelled - skies are darkening every second. Reach that exfil, marine, you got seventeen minutes. Command, out."_

Reese sighed, _"Copy, Command, we're moving to the extraction point. Lasing the CAS site. Out."_

Moving into a good, covered position, he switched on the green laser, aiming it with his head towards the very large group of Atlesian drone troops moving towards them. The ones that abandoned their rifles and deployed their melee weapons were given priority, with the two mechs being kept at bay with copious amounts of gunfire - its' laser sights were gone. While waiting for the missiles to come rain hell, Reese ordered a nearby squad leader to lase the group of Grimm.

 _"Ernie, mark up those pools for our guys in the sky! And tell the Hunter to get the fuck out of there!"_

As the platoon slowly retreated, giving covering fire to their fellow marines, two pairs of AGM-65 Mavericks hit the remaining Atlesian Knights. The three Paladin-290s supporting the small army toppled underneath the explosion; unable to move and unable to fight effectively, the lumbering mechs were a trio of mission kills for the marines and whoever the skillful pilot up in the sky. Not a minute later, three Paveway I laser-guided bombs impacted the Grimm east of the marines.

Not waiting for the smoke to clear, Reese ordered everyone to quickly retreat to the exfil point marked on their OPTICS. Mason was ordered by Rico to give covering fire for the retreat and mop up as many remaining Atlesian Knights as possible - there were few left, all terribly malfunctioning and easily dispatched. Rejoining his squad, Mason remembered something.

 _"Hey, where's the hunter at?"_

 _"Shit, you don't think he got caught in the blast? That was three bombs dropped on the fool!"_

Suddenly, a voice disproved their thoughts. "I'm here," Qrow coughed out, "You guys think it's funny blowin' me up?"

"We told you to get out of the strike area," Reese responded.

"Well, I was able to get out in time," Qrow explained, "Damn, you Americans love the explosive crap."

At that, some of the marines chuckled, at least the ones that were in better shape than most. That's not to say they weren't in shape, but after trekking through the city, fighting off a small horde of both Grimm _and_ rogue Atlesian droids, some slack could be cut for them.

Resuming their previous formation, the platoon of marines from 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines were rushing through the streets. Their breath became labored after a few kilometers, but they persevered - the exfil chopper was only one more kilometer away.

 _"Almost there, marines, push through it!"_ Reese yelled through the comms.

"I'm gonna do you guys a favor," Qrow started, "and sweep our path."

One marine couldn't hold his curiosity. "Can't you just, turn into a bird and fly away?"

Qrow chuckled, "Grimm are smarter than you think. They can tell the difference." And with that, he leapt ahead, his sword gleaming in the moonlit sky.

 _"Yo, LT,"_ Marcus began, _"Next time, let's req a fucking MRAP or something."_

 _"Shut it, Marcus. We're almost there, keep your panties on, damn it."_

Turning the next corner, the lead marine shouted in shock and raised his rifle- before promptly lowering it after a flash of steel flicked through the Ursa Major that had appeared in front of the man. The monster fell to the ground, Qrow leaping away not a moment later. The man could be heard further ahead, the dying roars of Grimm echoing through the streets, along with the clash of his sword against bone and asphalt.

 _"Fuck, this guy's good."_

 _"Dude survived three bombs and 's still swingin', what ya 'spect?"_

The marines finally reached the street on which the extraction helicopters lay. Three CH-47 Chinooks rested on the asphalt, with a smaller SH-60 Seahawk further down the street. They were relieved to see their exfil point still standing, although it wouldn't be for long.

 _"Command, we've reached the exfil point, over."_

 _"Get your asses in the chopper, marines, your AO's getting hot! Should be three Chinooks and a Blackhawk there, copy?"_

 _"Copy, confirm on the three and one. Loading up, out."_

The men and women of Reese's platoon quickly mounted, with Mason's squad being in the Seahawk.

"Hey," the pilot greeted them, "I'm your pilot for this flight, 'm from the _Pericles_."

"Nice to meet you," Rico returned the greeting, "now get us the fuck out of here!"

The pilot didn't say anything as he quickly started the rotor, all the choppers being kept in quick ignition to take off as soon as possible. Patching in to the marine's OPTICS, he addressed his passengers.

 _"Alright, we'll be out of here within the minute. Strap down yourselves and your gear, skies are pretty dark. We got the wings of the Enterprise covering us, but I wouldn't count on it too much. Can hardly see the moon properly here."_

The rotors quickly spun up to speed, and several minutes later all four of the rotary craft were up in the sky, flying fast away from the heart of the kingdom. Looking further back, Mason saw the huge Goliaths stomping and knocking buildings down beneath them, and more and more Grimm kept on appearing and adding to the mix. Explosions riddled the sky from launched missiles, but whatever kills they inflicted did nothing to lessen the horde.

 _"That could've been us."_

 _"Yea. And look, the Hunter's over in the residential sector are still fighting it out."_

True to Rico's word, the contracted and volunteer hunters in the residential district were still fighting, no doubt slaying hundreds of Grimm. Flashes of color, bright enough to be seen in the darkening night sky, perforated the land. Purple, blue, green, and orange - all the colors could be seen flashing and exploding as the helicopters flew away.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling sounded through the air the copters were flying, and all four of them quickly veered to the left. An Atlesian destroyer, the _ANV Iridescent_ _,_ descended from the heavens, its point defense blazing and missile pods firing. In it's immediate area, hundreds of Nevermore fell, their bodies casting a trail of shadow as they dived to the ground below. Purple explosions lit up all around it, enveloping even more Nevermores in the resulting fireballs.

 _"Like a scene out of Halo, man."_

The destroyer then quickly ascended, most likely having expended all of its purple-explosion-missile thingies, although its point defense continued to rain plasma fire everywhere. The hull was punctured in numerous places by Nevermore feathers, and one of the engines was flickering. But before it could leave the chasing Grimm, the destroyer had one last gift to give to the Grimm, specifically the amassing horde beneath it.

Three purple rockets, with a purple mix of gravity dust and fire dust propelling them forwards, streaked towards the horde. They impacted the Goliaths trashing the city around them, and covered the entire area in a fireball of gravity dust, fire dust, and wind dust.

 _"Shii-it, that was a big ass **boom**."_

 _"They almost destroyed our stability, screw that,"_ the pilot remarked, although there was an impressed tone in his voice.

The smoke eventually cleared, but the resulting sight made the marine's stomachs drop, as well as the Atlesian officers who had authorized the impromptu strike.

The Goliaths still stood. They were on their knees, but slowly each one rose, and continued marching. Fortunately, much of the lesser Grimm around them were vaporized by the strike, but the literal elephants in the room still stood. Three problems still existed. Noticing the lack of lesser Grimm around them, the giant elephants stopped, but

 _"God,"_ Mason sat back in his seat, blowing air out, _"What will it take to kill these things..."_

They rode in silence for a bit, before someone suddenly remembered something, and made it known to the platoon.

 _"Hey, anyone know where the hunter went?"_

* * *

 _14 December 2016_

 _Kingdom of Atlas_

 _Council Chamber_

 _Time: 1753 (5:53 PM)_

James sipped his coffee as he walked through the halls of the Atlas Council building. The setting sun outside raised some questions, but James knew he would have a long night.

Herman had just submitted to the Council his proposal for a complete shutdown of Atlas' borders - all traffic going in and out would be frozen, and the majority of military assets returned to base, with the exception of those acting as signal relays in place of the still-shutdown CCTS. James couldn't fathom _why_ Herman would do such a thing, much less why he would even _think_ of the notion, or even _entertain_ the idea to the Council.

A part of James supported the idea. With the CCTS shutdown, Vale still in the hands of the Grimm, Grimm numbers increasing in the Grimmland - reconnaissance reported - and the power of Atlas threatened by Earth, specifically the United States, James could see the appeal in a complete shutdown of Atlas' borders. But he could also see more than that, _beyond_ that.

The Vale Council agreed, almost too quickly, to the hand of help offered by the United Nations. To James, this was both a good and bad sign.

Good, in that bureaucracy did not get in the way of sound, simple decisions; bad, in that it showed the emerging power dynamics beginning to take _real_ shape in Remnant. Until the arrival of the U.S. and UN, the dominance of Atlas was assured. They had a hand in just about everything in Remnant. The SDC had a virtual monopoly over Dust, they were the _only_ kingdom to have a standing army, they were the most technologically advanced, pretty much _every_ significant technological advancement came from an Atlesian inventor - case in point with the CCTS - hell, they were the ones to _build_ the damn thing and were nice enough to even _gift_ it to the other kingdoms. Atlas had Remnant in an iron grip.

Until the arrival of the Americans, and subsequently, Earth herself.

Turning the next corner, James saw the pair of guards posted in front of the main entrance to the Council Chamber. It was not the same pair of guards he was greeted with last time, nor all the times before that.

Taking another, long, sip of coffee, James stood in front of the double doors and waited.

"Apologies, sir," the guard to his left said, "the Council is currently discussing with another officer."

James paid the issue no mind. "That's quite alright..." James drifted off, waiting for the guard to give his name. If these two were the new regulars, he might as well get to know them.

"Callum, sir," the guard picked up his polite gesture, "Callum Evans."

James nodded. "Callum, then. It's quite fine, I can wait. And you..." James gestured to the other guard.

"Angus Jones."

James gave him a curt nod, before facing forward again and waiting. After a few minutes, the door finally opened.

 _Click!_

And the man of the hour came out.

"James!" the old man exclaimed.

"Herman," James nodded.

"What brings you here? I just finished speaking to the Council."

"It is just that, actually," the General pointed out, "What did you speak about with the Council?" James knew, of course. But he wanted to hear it from the man himself.

The queried man chuckled, his mustache doing a dance of its own and his eyebrows covering his eyes.

"Walk with me, then," Herman started moving, "If you had something to say to the Council, I'm sure _they_ can wait. Must still be mulling over what I said."

Shifting priorities, James walked with the old man. Moving away from the grand double doors and into the hallway James had just traversed himself. Outside, the first inklings of city lights shined bright. Towering buildings, moving cars, and the occasional rumbling of a passing frigate. Atlas day was beginning to settle down; Atlas night was beginning to wake from her slumber.

"I submitted a proposal to the Council," Herman suddenly said. "To close Atlas borders' and recall the majority of our military assets back to the homeland."

James was silent. He knew all that. That's why he was going to the Council in the first place. The general asked why. The admiral didn't respond immediately.

"Understand, James," Herman began, "That I am quite old. Older than you think. I grew up in the decades just after the Great War, a time of major strife and reform. Atlas just figured out how to walk again, and she was just remembering how to use the sword her mother gave her."

James could understand Herman's metaphorical and symbolic talk. Atlas was not always Atlas. The Atlesian military was not always so ingrained in Atlesian culture. The Royal Atlesian Airfleet was not always so large.

"I was never a Hunter either, James. I never got to experience the joy of having forged your own weapon, of testing your skills in prestigious academies, nor of being treated and pampered like a hero. No, I am, first and foremost, a _soldier_ , James. My father was a soldier, my grandfather was a soldier, and his father before was a soldier; it is in my _blood_ to be a soldier. A soldier for Atlas. So I hope you understand where I am coming from."

"I understand," James assured. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon by now, and the city lights were at complete illumination. On top of the hill, where the Council and governmental buildings rested, the view of Atlas was unmatched. Unobstructed by forestry and carefully regulated as to reduce light pollution, the view of Atlas and the stars was a view coveted by people around the world.

To shut down access to it... would kill Atlas' image.

"I've been a soldier for almost all my adult life. I've served Atlas; I fought Grimm outside the walls, I killed pirates, I caught smugglers - I've done it all. Everything I did, I did for Atlas. And now, she is threatened once more."

Here it is. The real minutes of the hour. And more hours, should James fail in dissuading Herman from his course.

"We're powerful, James. We have a big hand in the Dust markets. We have a big hand in the arms industry, in technology, in the arts and crafts, as odd as it may be. But we're no longer so powerful. We're a little grain of dust compared to the crystal that is Earth. Hundreds of nations, thousands of cultures, and not millions, but _billions_ of people."

"Herman-" James tried to intrude, but the old admiral raised a hand. He wasn't done.

"I know what you'll say. We can fight them if need be. I have no doubts that we can. But that is all we can do. We can't dominate them like we do Remnant. And they already have a foot in this world; the portal to their world is firmly in their grasp and Vale is receiving help from their United Nations. We're being pushed out, James. How long until they make friends with Mistral? With Vacuo? With _Menagerie_?!"

"If that is your reasoning, then why close our borders? Why recall our assets and go back on the promises we've made to those people? There is so much more if we _cooperate_ with Earth, Herman. We can expand our technological base, go to our shattered moon and back. We could usher in a golden age for Atlas. We could stop the White Fang. We could _eradicate_ the Grimm, for gods sake! Closing our borders, Herman, will mean closing the door to Atlas future."

"Atlas will survive. She has weathered worse storms than what is to come," Herman responded stubbornly.

"Atlas will not survive _alone_. If we close our borders, we will be _alone_ , Herman. In this world full of Grimm," James placed emphasis on the last point. Sure, Atlas was strong. Her borders were well defended and the Grimm regularly kept at bay.

Herman did not respond for some time. Their walk had taken them out to the cliff-side terrace overlooking the lights of the city. It was cold, the wind biting, but there was no snowfall. Neither was there snow on the terrace, all of it being shoved off the cliff and collecting in a pile below.

The admiral spoke suddenly, "The strong live and the weak die. Do you know where I heard that from?"

James knew the answer. It was an established concept on Remnant, growing in popularity especially with the advent of Huntsmen, but it was also relevant on Earth.

"Earth. I got it from Earth. Who should Atlas be, James? The strong? The weak? If it were me in that seat of yours, I'd be the strong. I'd make the strong choices. The ones that strengthen Atlas and consolidate our power. We will need it in the face of the threat that Earth poses. That the United States poses."

"We are strong, Herman. We are the only military in the world, it is our obligation to be the world's keeper."

Herman laughed. Almost as though he was mocking him.

" _That_ is why I am recalling our forces. There is no need for us to be the world's keeper anymore."

"What?" James queried, "Why? And if not us, who? America? They are preoccupied enough with their own world. If you pull our forces back, what will that make Atlas appear to be?"

The other was silent.

"Backstabbers," the word had an effect true to its name, delivered with a tone of voice equally as harsh. "We'll be seen as backstabbers, Herman. Traitors and liars who would rather cut their losses and hold for themselves than proceed on keeping their word. We'd be alone, and this time we wouldn't have Mistral as our ally."

The reference to the Great War inflicted deeply on Herman. But he remained steadfast.

"That is the point. At some point in time, we must cut our losses and consolidate our power. "Keeper of the world," what crock. Our forces spend more time defending the other Kingdoms when they should be defending our own. I'm sure you've read the reports. Grimm numbers are increasing. In fact, just yesterday, an Elder Kraken appeared just 100 km off Point Austain. It took _four Aslean_ class destroyers and a _Crusader_ class cruiser to drive it off. Before then, it sunk two cargo ships inbound from Mistral and heavily damaged a third. The ship had to be abandoned; the goods left behind. It was an hour before a sufficient amount of available ships were put together and another two hours for them to arrive on scene."

It was James' turn to be silent. He had not heard of this. Considering that he was a General and held two seats on the Council, one would expect him to know about these things. While the Royal Atlesian Airfleet was Herman's jurisdiction, the possibility of him withholding information held serious implications.

"I did not know about this-"

"Of course you didn't," Herman spat. "Too busy managing the defense of _another_ Kingdom, I'm sure. That incident, James, and the incidents to come are why I am asking for a recall of our forces and a shutdown of our borders. Aside from the Grimm, what else is there desiring our downfall? The White Fang, of course. Why, look at the state of Vale! Look what they did to our forces!"

James frowned, "That was a matter out of our control; the enemy was able to-"

" _There!_ " Herman shouted, " _There_ is the key phrase. "The enemy was able to." If the enemy was able to bring us down in Vale, what stops them from opposing us here in Atlas? In Mantle? The White Fang was able to drop Grimm in a Huntsman academy. They took over the city with organization never seen before. They turned our forces against us. With Grimm and the White Fang closing in, James, Atlas is _cornered._ If another strike similar to Vale occurs here, hell, in _Mantle_ , we're done for."

"If this is the fate that you believe Atlas will take, then why close our borders? Why shut ourselves off from the world?"

"Whatever Fang try to get in will be stopped at the walls and whatever Fang is in will be found and shot."

"The negativity that will cause-"

"Is negligible if all our forces are at home. Let the Grimm come - we have the airships and troops to spare, now that we can focus on defending _our own_ Kingdom rather than _someone else's._ "

James was getting desperate. Herman was steadfast in his belief, and his reasoning was equally as sound.

"The economy, Herman. Dust is not infinite and neither are the necessary commodities."

At this, Herman paused. He thought about it, mulling over the consequences, before returning an answer.

"Atlas will survive. The rest of the world may not, but Atlas will. And most likely, that _other_ world will come to their aid. They'll grovel at their feet. Worship them. In the meanwhile, Atlas will forge on. She will be a paragon of virtue and independence in the new age."

Herman started walking, leaving James behind. The night had truly fallen now, with the wind picking up. The lights behind them shined brightly, illuminating the city against a dark backdrop. No clouds were in the sky. The stars blended in with the lights, mixing and twinkling as they normally would. It made the city look alone against a dark backdrop.

Atlas was alone.

* * *

 _14 December 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Patch Island_

 _Rose-Xiao-Long Residence_

 _Time: 0700 (7:00 AM)_

Leaves crunched as a pair of black shoes stepped on them.

The crunching continued throughout the forest, moving on a worn but noticeable path away from the city to a cabin in the woods.

It was morning, but already traces of humidity and heat were beginning to set in. For the natives, the feeling of leaving their air conditioned rooms and their bodies hitting the hot, humid breeze would be normal. For the foreigners, it'd be a slap to the face.

The crunching stopped.

A man looked up, taking in the cabin in front of him. It had not changed much over the years; well maintained and well defended, the sight was familiar to the man. He ran a hand through his hair, wiping off the light sweat that accumulated on his forehead.

The crunching resumed.

It was quiet in the forest, save for the crunching. Not even the cabin held any noise, despite the time. Shops would be opening, kids getting ready for school, joggers preparing for their run - life would begin a new day. But not everyone was an early riser.

Ignoring the patch of wood that seemed different from all the rest, the man approached the door and jiggled the door knob. Finding it locked, he went around to the back, being careful not to make too much noise. Slipping his hand underneath the mat there, he pulled out a crowbar. Moving back to the front, the man slipped the bar in and forced open the door.

It swung inward violently, but he was quick to catch it. Moving inside and taking off his shoes, he gently clicked the door shut.

He set down his weapon near his shoes and stretched. It was a long walk and even longer flight, but he finally arrived. He smelled like gunpowder and blood and burnt metal and explosives, but at least his clothes were fine. Taking a step forward, he felt a warm body, much smaller than his own, impact his chest with enough speed to knock him against the door. Two arms wrapped around him.

 _"Uncle Qrow!"_

Qrow smiled.

"Hey squirt."

* * *

 **Hey howdy ho, everyone. Uploading this at around 2357, or 11:57 PM if you don't understand the 24 hour clock.**

 **Been a while, but I'm still here. This chapter's somewhat large at ~7000, but it got the necessary plot points in.**

 **Expect the next one sometime in January, or if you're lucky, late December.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello all.**

 **Let's get started.**

* * *

 _"Who Dares Wins"_

* * *

 _24 December 2016_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Possible White Fang Base of Operations_

 _British Special Air Service_

 _Classified SAS Regiment_

 _Time: 0000 (12:00 AM)_

Since the end of the First World War, UK-US relations are the strongest they have ever been. This bond was only strengthened during WWII, and even further with the September 11th Attacks in 2001. Americans and Englishmen share a strong bond; through history, culture, and genetics, there is no doubt that there is a solid long-distance relationship from across the pond. Yet there are still some rifts between the two.

Information sharing, for example. The fact that the US did not reveal to their closest ally the existence of something as momentous as a portal to another world was a little unnerving, and made some of those within the United Kingdom to question whether their relationship with their cousins across the Altantic was as strong as they thought. Granted, every nation held secrets - everyone knows this - but some just want a little extra... _insurance_ , so to speak.

Therefore, Her Majesty deployed the United Kingdom's most elite special forces unit in the British Army - the Special Air Service - to the planet of Remnant in secret. Aboard one of the UK's _Daring_ class (or Type 45) guided missile destroyers was a small troop of SAS "blades" )or operators) from a classified regiment; they were to wait until the main expeditionary force had cleared the majority of the hostile forces and from there they would make landfall in secret and gain as much information for the UK themselves.

It was a simple, typical information gathering op. Some leftover Grimm was to be expected, but almost all of the districts were clear of Grimm - now it was just a matter of cleaning up the remaining White Fang hiding in the city ruins.

Fifteen men marched fast down a dark alleyway. It was raining, and there were puddles everywhere along their path, yet all fifteen men - with all their gear and added weight - were as silent as the wind. Only the _pitter patter_ of falling droplets of rain could be heard - a testament to the skill and training of the SAS.

They had achieved their main goal. They went completely undetected by Grimm, White Fang, Huntsman, or any of the other Earth forces operating in Vale. Their data was invaluable to the UK's future operations in the area; the level of infrastructure of Vale, critical defenses, entries, exits, important government buildings, communications arrays, possible Dust deposits, possible oil and mineral deposits - the list was endless. And it was invaluable. Perhaps the one area they were lacking in were White Fang bases of operations.

Sure, the bombs and the missiles probably leveled whatever they had on the surface. But if word-of-mouth and shared intelligence reports were true, then the Fang had a whole network of tunnels and safe houses _underneath_ the Kingdom of Vale. It was expected, after all; Vale always had the most Fang activity, how else could they engineer the Fall of Beacon and the Attack on Vale?

For the Special Air Service, dealing with the White Fang and the bases they found were trivial. Most of them had little training with the weapons they had on them, just some rudimentary "point and shoot" lessons and nothing on actual teamwork or tactics. Aura didn't help either - not when they were caught unawares by phantoms in the night, setting off explosives expertly placed in dead silence. Or being picked off into dark alleyways, later found in some dirty dumpster with their throat slit.

Business as usual.

The Fang base the operators were coming onto was slightly different. There were reports of major Fang activity here, and was considered by both the UNEF and the Council to be a point of interest for the two parties. Taking it down would be great - infiltrating it would be even greater.

Stopping down the street from the location, the operators quickly set up. Two went up to the roof, setting up over watch in some obscure location. They reported no activity outside the building; no patrols, no open doors, nothing. The lights were on though.

 _"Something's off."_

 _"We've been hitting their bases a lot the past month - they're probably expecting us."_

 _"Do we go through with the op or abort?"_

A minute of silence for hours of deliberation. There were no losses so far, and intel reports on this base were a little above normal, but no skillful Aura users were reported in the area. Aside from the increased numbers, there was little different from previous reports.

 _"What about Grimm?_ _"_ a voice suggested.

That was a thought, though not one that went unconsidered. Grimm activity in the district - hell, the Kingdom - were _reported_ to be next to nonexistent. It did not mean, however, that there were _no_ Grimm at all.

 _"We go through with the op_ _,"_ a grizzled voice finally said, _"Radio the_ _Dauntless that this op's threat level is raised, and to have an exfil chopper ready on standby."_

 _"Aye."_

With orders relayed, the troop split up to place charges, while the two running over watch kept an eye for any Fang exiting the building or anyone approaching the AO. Placing charges at strategic points around the building, they finally scaled the building and peered inside. Conveniently enough, there was a skylight that the men could peer through.

 _"We're on the roof."_

 _"Copy, we have eyes on you. No external activity."_

 _"Copy. Lights are on inside the building. No one visible from where we are. Beginning infiltration."_

 _"Roger."_

Two men stayed on the roof, continuing to watch inside while the rest stacked up against a backdoor. The lead man tried the handle, the rest of them prepared to burst in and shoot any Fang inside. The rain was lightening up, but the clouds remained dark. There would be no moonlight tonight.

The door swung open silently. No one moved.

 _"There is definitely something wrong here."_

 _"Breach."_

Quickly and quietly, the infiltrating men entered the building. Checking rooms, performing sweeps - once all was said and done, they entered the main room that had the skylight.

 _"Walker, Evans, you two still up there?"_

 _"Yes, sir, still up here."_

 _"Taylor, Williams, how goes outside?"_

 _"All still clear."_

 _"Copy. We're examining the building now_ _."_

Closing comms, the men reentered the office department of the building and began gathering papers. It was another treasure trove of information - inventory checks, locations of other bases, operations in the area, etc. It was all here. Yet, at the same time, it was not.

 _"Some of this stuff is bollocks, mate."_

The leader of the troop examined one of the papers, looking over the information. Quickly, he looked at the other papers, and found their information to be utter horseshit as well. They'd been duped. The SAS, the UNEF, Atlas, the Council, the Hunters - they'd all been played. And they were right in the devil's den.

 _"Everyone regroup in the big room, **now**."_

Abandoning all the papers, the men exited the offices and gathered in the main room.

 _"Taylor, Williams, how copy?"_

There was no response.

 _"Taylor! Williams! **Respond!** "_

Still, no response.

"FUCK!" the lead man shouted out loud. It echoed throughout the warehouse, amplifying the emptiness of the whole building. It was soon disturbed by a massive explosion.

 **BOOM!**

 _"They got one of the charges off!"_

 _"Everyone to the exit, go, go, go!"_

The troop ran to the exit, an atmosphere of urgency setting in among them. They emerged out of the building to a darkened street. The clouds had not broken, but the fire from one corner of the building raged.

 _"To the exfil point! Call the Dauntless and have that chopper in the sky now!"_

 _"What about Taylor and Williams?!"_

 _"For fuck's sake!"_

As one of the men radioed the _Dauntless_ , the troop ran to the building where Taylor and Dauntless were providing over watch. Getting onto the roof, they found their comrades. Both were gone. Not one trace of them remained, except for streaks of blood from where the Fang dragged the pair off.

 _"Bastards!"_

While the men quickly searched around the roof to see if they could find any clues as to where their lost comrades went, one of the men noticed a dark figure a couple blocks away. It was hard to tell with the rain, which had picked up again, and the glare from the fire that was now raging, but it was unmistakable that there was a person there.

 _"We've been spotted, sir!"_

The leader quickly looked to where Evans was indicating - and promptly blanched. There were detailed intelligence reports on this man. From his weight to his height to his outline in the dark, it was unmistakable who this person was. The katana didn't help.

It was Adam Taurus.

 _"Everyone on the street! We are moving!"_

 _"But Taylor and-"_

 _"We will find them! We will come back for them! But now, we need to **move!** "_

Flying down the stairs, the SAS troop sprinted down the street to the exfil point. It was just a mile away, a distance that seemed a hundred times longer for the troop running it. They could hear the rotor blades, however - a Chinook was about to land in the street.

Davies quickly looked back to see if the dreaded man was giving chase. Instead, he saw something far worse. Big, black, furry masses with white bone plates and beady red eyes. Grimm.

Thankfully, the chopper was just around the corner. Yet just as it was about to settle into a hover and begin it's descent, a streak of orange fire, faster than what should normally be, flew across their heads and impacted the center mass of the Chinook. The aircraft promptly _exploded_ , the force behind the strike pushing it into a nearby building and causing an even larger fireball to rise up in the building ahead of them.

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!"

 _"Dauntless, we are compromised. Dauntless, we are compromised_ _. We are abandoning secrecy and making our way to the nearest friendly base, please advise!"_

A moment later, before the _Dauntless_ gave them a response.

 _"Understood, nearest allied base is 4 klicks west of your position. Marking on OPTICS. We've notified allied forces and a QRF is on their way, over."_

 _"Copy, Dauntless, over. There's not a chance in hell they didn't see that explosion."_

Addressing the rest of the men, the leader informed them of the situation. They were free to go weapons loud and to use everything at their disposal in order to survive.

 _"Let's meet them halfway, boys, come on!"_

With renewed vigor, the SAS blades picked up the pace. Adam Taurus was not pursuing them, and neither was whoever launched the fireball, but the Grimm were close on their tail. Some of the men were dropping grenades, the explosions taking down some of the pursuing Grimm, but the mass of the bodies was too much. They were getting closer.

Making a left, the troop was now one klick closer to their destination. Some of them took the time to spray some fire downrange, but it was useless. It seemed even more Grimm were appearing, and if some of the men's eyes weren't lying, they were coming from the streets around them as well.

 _"They're releasing all of the bloody animals on us!"_

Making a right, they were now just two klicks away from the allied force. The men were considerably lighter now, having expended most of their explosives in trying to reduce the mass of Grimm behind them. But there was still no avail to the seemingly ever-increasing horde. There was, however, another bright flash of light. An explosion rocked the street ahead of them and behind them. The force of the explosion knocked some of the men off their feet. They were quick to get up, especially with Grimm on their heels, but one was a bit slow to recover. A little too slow.

Just as the first Grimm was about to reach the flames behind them, Evans was hauled up by the troop leader, Davies, and away from the jaws of death.

 _"We. Are. **LEAVING!** "_

Being yelled at was the boost the man needed to get his feet moving again. His thighs were burning, and his face quickly turned hot and sweaty from the flames. The other men had stopped and taken a knee to give the man time to regroup - silenced weapons poured lead downrange in hopes of covering Evans. The bullets fell some Grimm, but most charged on unperturbed.

The fire and the fire were deafening. As was the roar of the Grimm.

Making another right, the troop was on the home stretch. They were just five klicks away from the allied base - surely they would have seen them by now? Where was the QRF? Where were the Hunters, supposedly faster than the speed of sound? They turned another corner.

And were met promptly with a brick wall. A dead end.

"What the bollocks?!"

"A dead end!"

"Where the FUCK have we been going?! They should have spotted us by now!"

Davies looked at his OPTICS again - damn Americans kept the best ones for themselves - and this time he _really_ looked at the map. His heart sank.

They were even _farther_ from the friendly base than they were an hour ago. Approximately _fifteen kilometers_ off course. They had been moving in the opposite direction the whole time. To trace back their steps would be suicide - Davies looked at his men. They were exhausted, some of them bleeding from the explosions earlier. There was a brick wall in front of them, and a mass of Grimm behind them.

They were trapped.

The first Grimm appeared around the corner. Then the second. Then the third. And all the rest came running around. The operators quickly got into defensive positions. They got behind cover and raised their rifles, despite the futility of it. One of the men depressed his trigger, expecting to pour out a hailstorm of lead down into the devils' hides.

Nothing came out.

The other men promptly tried their own weapons. Empty _clicks_ sounded across all of them. They were completely out of ammo, explosives and all. All that remained was the muscles on their bodies and the knives strapped on their legs. Davies looked at his troop, and he knew what had to be done.

 _"Dauntless... we are compromised. Dauntless, we are compromised."_

 _"The QRF is three minutes out, Davies, hold on. We're getting some support for you, just hold out a few more minutes."_

 _"We are fucked, Dauntless. Blow these wankers to hell. Davies out."_

 _"Davies!-"_

The man cut the comms. Looking at the Grimm, he chuckled. They were staring his men down. His own men were doing the same. There was no fear. There was only defiance, there was only daring.

"TROOP!" Davies shouted. The Grimm growled in response, but his own men came to attention.

An age old command. From the era of line infantry and open-field battles, to the trenches of WWI, to the beaches of WWII. A command as old as the weapon itself. In another era, it would've been considered glorious. A ram-rod straight line of British soldiers, their rifles at the ready, prepared to execute their commander's orders. And in the context of the situation, it was a desperate, yet defiant image.

The Grimm growled, pawing at the ground beneath them. They were holding back, but it was clear some force was controlling them. Something, _someone_ was toying with them. But the British wouldn't have it. They never would.

With a guttural roar, Davies ordered.

 _"FIX BAYONETS!_

* * *

In the distance, red eyes blinked once, twice, three times before stopping. The girl rubbed her eyes, relaxing them and attempting to relieve the pressure. A raspy voice, one that only she could truly hear, whispered to her.

"Good work. Return to castle."

Understanding, Emerald turned away from the explosions that rocked the location of the men she had been casting an illusion on. It was tough, draining, and a major strain on her eyes, but the job was done. The Special Air Service was neutralized. But they were just one of many complications in the region.

Along with Cinder, Emerald stepped off the roof onto the streets below, noting the White Fang coming from all sides as they regrouped. Mercury was running back with them, and Cinder lead them all down into the tunnel the White Fang had used. As Emerald entered the darkness, she exhaled in relief. Even the moon was too bright for her now.

"Wow, Em, you look exhausted," Mercury drawled, "Get a little bothered staring at the men all night?"

"Piss off, you cripple. All you did was stand."

"A mighty task for a cripple like me," Mercury shot back, gesturing to his legs.

Just as Emerald was going to kick the obnoxious shit into the sewage, Cinder spoke out. It pained Emerald to hear her voice, straining to emit the once commanding and luxurious tone.

"Stop. Quiet. Both of you. Go now."

Emerald nodded while Mercury just put up his hands. The three, along with the White Fang behind them, made their way quickly through the sewers. Avoiding the places that had caved in from the initial Grimm attack, they eventually turned into a pipe leading out of a cliff side. Despite it only having been less than twenty minutes, Adam was already down at the base of the cliff, waiting with his men.

"Took you long enough," the bull faunus growled. "We need to move now. The Americans have this entire place covered; the sky's teeming with their fighter craft. We'll have to lay low."

Cinder shook her head, walking away into the forest as Emerald explained that they had their own ride before joining the others into the forest. Adam returned the favor, turning and collecting his men before shunting them all into the bullhead. It lifted off and flew away as fast and as quietly a bullhead could. Meaning to say, not at all.

Hacking through the forest, they eventually entered a clearing. There, waiting for them with its head resting on the ground, was a griffon. Smaller than the one used to attack Beacon, but more than capable of bringing the three to the castle of it's master. The griffon didn't move, knowing who the trio was, and instead waited for them to climb on before extending its wings. One, two, three flaps later and they were airborne.

The flight to the castle was low and slow, so as to avoid American combat air patrols and other detection systems. But once Cinder thought it safe, the avian grimm quickly picked up speed, moving across the Grimmlands as fast as it could. Slowly the landscape around them soon lost all life as the ground turned dark and the atmosphere purple. The grimm's master had let the curtain fall for them. Looking up, Emerald saw her boss's _boss's_ place. She would never get used to it, no matter how many times she came or how long she resided.

A dark castle loomed in the magenta sky. It was surrounded by avian grimm much like the griffon they were riding, as well as all the smaller land grimm. Below were hundreds of Goliaths, milling about and smashing rocks. In the sea in the distance, Emerald swore she saw a Kraken's tentacle slip back into the sea. All manner of Grimm resided in the lands around the castle. There were some she'd never seen before in her life, some that not even the _Kingdoms_ have ever seen before in their history. But it was not the Grimm that made Emerald feel uncomfortable about the place, no. They were but a part.

In the magenta sky, at a distance of millions away from the eldritch hellscape below, was the moon. It was the only thing Emerald, even Mercury, considered normal in the entire domain of Salem. There was just one extraordinary difference.

Whole. The moon was whole. It was not shattered like it was outside the domain, and it did not have different phases like it was outside the domain - the moon was whole, it was always full, and it never left its residence in the sky. No matter how long Emerald stayed, or when she left, or when she returned - the moon was always the same. _That,_ was the most unnerving part of the place she had to call home for the past few months.

The griffon dropped them off at one of the many surfaces jutting out of the castle walls before joining its brethren in the sky. The Grimm, like humans, had their own circles. Goliaths kept with Goliaths, Griffons to Griffons, and so on. But there were many more this time - the sound was audible even as the three entered Salem's castle. And not even a few feet into the grand halls of the place until Salem greeted them.

 _"Hellooo, Cinder dear_ ," she said in a smooth, feminine tone, _"I trust everything went well?"_

Cinder nodded. Salem understood, the poor girl.

"I see. So the human specialists have been dealt with?"

Another nod.

"Good, good. And I suppose their ships are still in the harbor?"

Cinder didn't gesture anything this time. Silence was an equally effective answer.

"Haah, a shame. An expected one. Lesser aquatic Grimm were never a match for them, even as they are now. But no matter." The woman turned around, the three arrivals following behind her.

"I will have to see whether they truly are as capable as they were before. Our time appears off," Salem spoke to herself, her head tilting upwards as she pondered, "Oh, how long has that man been planning this... what a break in the balance."

Salem lead them through the castle, despite the three's somewhat familiarity with the place. The walls soon became more recognizable, and candles lit up automatically as Salem neared their destination. Entering the dinner chamber, all the old faces looked up. Hazel, Watts, Tyrian - the whole faction was gathered in the room. As Cinder sat and her assistants stood behind her, Watts "greeted" Cinder.

"Cinder. I suppose things went well this time?" the man said with his usual tone. Cinder stayed silent, but her eyes provided a firm answer. The nuisance was disposed of.

"Great. Fantastic, I do hope you can keep that up before another... _accident_ occurs," Watts shot out again, jabbing at her damaged face. Cinder would have none of it, however, and neither would Salem.

"Quiet. I have an announcement of importance to make to you," Salem declared. She paused, making sure everyone was looking at her. Satisfied that she had their attention, she began.

"I will be sending two of my largest aquatic Grimm to the other side. Therefore, I have suspended all other plans - that means for the time being, only those permitted will be able to leave the castle. Those being Watts, here." The man in mention smirked.

Hazel was the next to react, with the usual question. "With all due respect... why?"

Salem was slow to answer. "This is not the first time that Earth has stepped on this planet. For now, I will say that I have met with their civilization before. I have lived long, but this planet even longer. Remnant has a long, sad history, and was once a peaceful world, under a different name. Any more questions?"

There were none. The answer itself provided more questions than answers, but such has always been the case since the group was assembled.

"Good. Now, stay behaved and keep within the castle. I will be busy summoning my desired Grimm," Salem said, turning around and exiting the chamber.

The room was filled with thought.

* * *

 _2 January 2017_

 _Kingdom of Vale_

 _Vale News Network Morning Segment_

 _Time: 0830 (8:30 AM)_

Lisa Lavender entered the makeshift studio, her feet hurting and small droplets of sweat holding on to her brow. Sitting down at her table, she wiped off the beads of sweat and tried to make herself look as presentable as possible. It was warmer than usual this morning; winter for Vale usually meant more rain and increased humidity, but today was somewhat of an off day. At least it wasn't Patch.

A lot had happened in the time since the UNEF had arrived in force on Remnant. The Grimm were expelled from Vale proper sometime in the last month of the year last year, so now all that was left was the arduous and somewhat depressing task of rebuilding.

The Earth forces were still in Vale, though the majority of them were either near the port or the wall, which remained virtually untouched by both the Grimm and the White Fang. Atlas was in the process of packing up and returning to the homeland, and it was expected that the last of their forces would leave Valean territory by tomorrow.

 _So much has happened,_ Lisa thought _, and that means so much to report_.

The free rein given to the Earth forces by the Vale Council and the tactics and weaponry they used meant that a big portions of the kingdom were either rubble or patches of burnt land. That did not mean that everything was destroyed, such as the high-class residential district, but everything was affected in one way or another by something, be it Earth, White Fang, or Grimm.

 _At least the news building will be up soon. Was barely touched,_ Lisa remembered. In a day or two the VNN would be able to return to their native workplace, and begin reporting from a cool, air-conditioned building.

Lisa picked up her papers, straightened them on the desk, saw the cameraman signalling to her, and nodded back. Her watch read 8:30, right on time for the morning news segment. How many people it would reach she didn't know, but she hoped that some of what was happening here would reach around the world globally. It was literal history in the making, and she wanted to be right at the forefront, reporting it all.

The cameraman counted down with his fingers, and as the fingers fell into a fist, Lisa began.

"Good morning Vale! Lisa Lavender here with today's morning report..."

* * *

 _2 January 2017_

 _Michael V. Ramos, former President of the United States_

 _Washington, D.C._

 _Starbucks_

 _Time: 0843 (8:43 PM)_

Michael walked in the Starbucks that he always passed by whenever he was on the way to or from the airport.

Today it was unusually empty. Knowing the reputation of this place and its popularity with the kids, he expected it to have more people inside. Nevertheless, there was still a small line at the cashier. He fell in, and the person in front of him glanced his way before facing front again. He turned back again and this time he went wide-eyed.

"President Ramos!"

Michael nodded to the man, "good morning."

"Wow, this is- I mean, yes, good morning to you too Mister President. I mean, uh-"

"Just Michael, son."

"Michael, yeah, good morning to you too sir."

By now the man had drawn the attention of both the staff and the other customers in the store, and very quickly the man offered Michael his spot in line. He declined, of course, but the manager came out and urged him to the front of the line. Michael tried to decline, but the man was adamant.

"Nonsense. It is an honor to have you in here, Mister President," the manager responded, shaking his hand. "You've done so much for the country. Really, we appreciate it."

"Oh, it's just a job, you know, nothing to-"

"No, no, the presidency is far more than a job, sir. Oh, alright. It's fine, you've served your time," the manager said, pushing him to the front. Everyone else in line gladly stepped aside, and the cashier smiled at him.

"Welcome to Starbucks, sir. How may I help you?" the cashier beamed. She was clearly very nervous, but the manager took over for her.

"Order whatever you like, Mister Presid-"

"Michael, please."

"-Michael. It's on the house. Please, take your time, really."

"Oh no," Michael opposed firmly this time, "I should pay, at least. Really, I should."

The manager nodded and turned to the staff, letting them know to give the former president their full attention.

It was the first time Michael had ever stepped into a Starbucks. He always made his own coffee or had an aide get it for him, but this time he was on his own. He decided to play it safe.

"Just a coffee," Michael sighed, "black, please."

* * *

Sitting down at a table in the back of the cafe, he sipped the black coffee. Being his first time, he decided to play it safe. No one could go wrong with simple, black coffee.

Looking at the TV mounted on the wall, Michael watched as a CNN panel dissected everything and anything they could get their hands on about the elected president. The 2016 presidential election was somewhat in the back of people's minds due to the discovery of Remnant, but that didn't mean everyone forgot to vote.

Michael thought about his two terms. He felt he did well enough on foreign policy, diluting the Middle East and scaling back American involvement in the region. Maybe domestic issues were his weak point, but he threw his support behind the LGBT community despite his conservative background. He gave amnesty to the illegals, though that was only hitting the symptoms rather than the cause. But overall, he felt he did a good job.

He could only hope his successor would do the same. The end of his presidency, however, did not mean the end of his political career. It usually never did for most American presidents.

The door swung open, another customer walked in. He fell in line and ordered, waiting for his drink before going up to Michael and pulling up a chair.

"Morning, Theo."

"Good morning, sir."

Theo sipped his coffee and let it go down, enjoying the coffee before getting down to business.

"So," Theo began, "What do you think of the new president?"

Michael looked at his defense secretary. "Didn't we talk about this already?"

"No?" Theo joked. "I'm kidding. I remember what you said. But I just need to pass a message on to you."

"Oh?" Michael swirled his coffee a little. "You could've called me. I know how to use a phone, you know."

"I know that," Theo assured his former boss, "But I wanted to speak in person. We hardly ever do that, and this message is supposed to be somewhat confidential."

Michael sipped his coffee again, staying silent for a few moments. Knowing Theo, whenever he says something is confidential, it was usually something big and involved whoever he was talking with. This would be the same.

"So... what is it?"

Theo put his coffee up to his mouth, drinking in a way that allows his eyes to sweep the room and see if anyone was watching or listening for whatever reason. There was no one. Michael always thought it was ridiculous, the way he did it. Just look around normally, for god's sake.

Satisfied that no one was looking and scalding his throat in the process, Theo cleared his throat and whispered to his former boss.

"Connors wants you as ambassador to Vale."

Michael coughed, trying to clear in his throat what wasn't there. The graying man put down his coffee while the he cleared his throat, the manager coming out and giving him a plastic cup of room temperature water. Michael nodded and pulled out his wallet, but Theo stopped him.

"Water is free at Starbucks."

The former president of the United States looked at Theo pointedly before taking the cup and chugging it down.

When he finished it, he wiped his mouth and got up to throw the plastic cup away, but the manager took it from him and did the deed himself before Michael could say anything.

That whole episode done, Michael finally responded. "So Connors wants me," Michael pointed to himself, "as the ambassador to Remnant."

"Yes," Theo confirmed.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure," Theo confessed. "That's no insult to you, but she just pulled me aside and asked me to pass on a message to you if I had the time to spare. She was looking for you, you know."

"So then," Michael responded slowly, taking the time to process the information, "How did you find me?"

"Well I called you, but you didn't pick up your phone. So then I called your wife-"

"Maragaret?"

"And she said you went to the Starbucks on the corner of 20th and East Street. I was confused at first, but I always saw you looking here on-"

"The way to the airport, yeah, I know."

Theo nodded, letting Michael take it all in. It was now roughly 9 AM, and the cafe was beginning to fill up a bit more. People walked in and saw Michael, and former president or not, an astonished look came onto their faces. Like they were in the same room as a god. No one approached, however - it was clear there was important business going on.

"Can I have some time?"

"Of course," Theo said, "I'm sure number 45 will wait a little. She's a little bit of a wild card, but she's not so impatient as the media makes her out to be. Just the right amount, "

"Yeah. Alright. Tell her to give me a few days. I'll, uh, I'll email her."

"Sure thing boss," the defense secretary said, downing the rest of his coffee. Theo got up, preparing to leave the place, but Michael stopped him.

"Wait, Theodor- Theo," Michael began. "How are you doing? You think Connors will replace you?" Michael cursed himself for forgetting basic etiquette.

"I'm doing fine, Mike. And on the job thing, I'm not sure. I mean, maybe Connors choosing me to tell you about this means something, but hopefully I keep the position, you know?"

"Yea, I know. Good seeing you, Theo."

The defense sec' nodded before turning around and stepping outside the cafe. Michael watched the man go before downing the rest of his coffee and throwing the empty cup away. He left a few dollar bills on the table, bid the staff goodbye, and waved goodbye to everyone in the Starbucks who knew who he was, before stepping out into the cold, winter air.

A shiver ran down his spine.

* * *

 _Remnant_

In the dark depths of Remnant, there was chaos at work.

Darkness. Despair. Maliciousness.

Evil. Malevolence. Cruelty.

All manners of negative emotion were being drawn from across the world and even from the other side. Oh, _especially_ the other side. Across that portal where the very laws of space-time were being violated, lay a treasure trove of negative emotion.

Greed. Corruption. Hatred. Racism.

 _Thousands_ of years to draw upon. _Billions_ to absorb from. Earth would be a Grimm's paradise. There were still many unknowns about it. Since it's inception and reveal to the public on both sides of the thing, an almost endless amount of questions were asked nearly everyday.

Why is it here? How did it form? What is it's purpose? Is it finite in size? Is there a limit to the number of objects that can pass through? Are there negative effects from crossing the portal? From repeated crossing of the portal? Can it grow in size? If it can, will it come to swallow the Earth?

There are only so many people allowed to traverse the path to Remnant. Even fewer are those allowed to be near it or even see it. Until a team of scientists are allowed to come to study it in some tangible form, these questions would remain unanswered.

But for Salem, she had an idea of how this portal came to be. This gateway to a world, to a time that she had only seen the remnants of, was not her creation. As powerful as she was, she knew of only one person with the power to bend the rules of reality, of time, to such an extent. Salem knew that Ozpin held immense power, but to unleash it in this form was a first.

However, such thoughts could be put away. There was a larger task at hand and a new element at play. It was literally doing all the work for her, even if it did inconvenience her intentions in Vale. A new campaign had to be planned.

Since discovering the vestiges of Earth in her early centuries, Salem was fascinated at such a world. To be able to see it with her own eyes was beyond her wildest dreams. No longer was it a fantasy. If Salem was going to build a new plan to include Earth in the operations, she would need information. Whatever she could get her hands on.

And for that, the Grimm would be her spyglass.

In an underground lake away from the main castle, she called.

An eldritch _beast_ rose from the depths, water cascading down from its explosive entrance. Its black skin sleek as water slipped off. A giant, hateful red eye peered down at her. It was a monster heard of countless times in sailor's stories of old. A sea monster powerful enough to grasp within it's long, strong tentacles several ships of multiple masts and _smash_ them against the sea like a child with his toys. Powerful enough to strike upon an airship and _obliterate_ it.

Salem smiled. She had created this beast a long, long, _long_ time ago. She was happy to see him still obedient despite her letting him roam loose for a while. He had grown so big since then.

"Heed my command," she uttered.

His red eye appeared to look at Salem, like in acknowledgement, before returning to staring straight.

The Elder Kraken slipped silently below the surface.

* * *

 **Someone asked for this in a review on the previous chapter.**

 **UN Expeditionary Fleet:**

 **CSG 5 w/ USS _Essex_ [USN]**

 **3x Type 052D destroyer [PLANSF]**

 **3x Type 45 destroyer [RN]**

 **2x Kongou-class destroyer [JMSDF]**

 **1x Sejong the Great-class destroyer [ROKN]**

 **2x Anzac class destroyer [RAN]**


End file.
